


Code Blue

by idek_anymore_m8



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adorable, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Cute, Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explosions, F/M, Friendship, Funny, Guns, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Sad, Zombie Apocalypse, flesh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idek_anymore_m8/pseuds/idek_anymore_m8
Summary: Code Blue. Definition; An emergency situation announced in a hospital or institution in which a patient is in cardiopulmonary arrest.Lance is probably the cure. But, it’s a bit late for that when the whole world is up in flames. Not literal flames but like… gnashing teeth and the scent of rotten flesh sort of flames. Okay, so maybe the world can’t be described as in flames.Story of Lance and the gang, with some good ol' angst, romance, battle, more angst, sadness, blood, tears, gayness, fam bam etc etc.





	1. The boy with the bite

**Author's Note:**

> I've been trying to come up with a good series idea for Klance for a while and I've been trying to write this for probably a month or a bit and I finally finished it!
> 
> With my exams around the corner I'm gonna try to get the next chapters done really soon.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!! Leave a comment, kudos or bookmark if you liked it and I would really love some feedback of whether to continue this or not.
> 
> THANK YOU!!
> 
> If you want to send me anything check out my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idekanymore-m8

****

**Chapter 1**

_****_

_**The boy with the bite** _

Feet crunched against broken glass, the cracks echoing throughout the empty darkened corridor. He strode down casually, his thumbs hooked into the inside of his long since tattered jeans, not spooked by the ominous echo that followed each step. The air was speckled with mould and dust, swirling in the air gently like a brewing storm; curling around one another, waiting for all hell to break loose. The smell of earth, rot and decay was fresh in the air but not unnatural – instead it was welcomed by the teenager as he took in the comforting and familiar scent of death. To any passer-bys – unlikely alive – he appeared as one of their own despite the fact that he wasn’t covered in grime and the blood of the latest meal. It was his scent; the same as their own but mildly different. Just a little bit alive so his heart continued to beat (albeit slower than it once was). Luckily for Lance, all of the dead were too stupid to actually tell the difference between him and themselves. 

While Lance continued to mosey down the hallway of the large building that was once a mall, he pondered the meaning of life and thought about his deepest dreams. “Man,” he grumbled to himself, “I would _kill_ for some moisturiser right now.” His shoe scuffed lightly against a stray piece of brick that had fallen away from the wall. The backpack swung obnoxiously in his hands, it’s heavy weight was standard to Lance after a few years of running with it. One thing Lance could highly appreciate about the apocalypse was the newly defined muscles that made themselves known when he removed his clothes. When they’d first begun to appear, Lance had stared, gobsmacked, his hands scrunching up his favourite blue and white baseball tee in his hands while he gawked at his biceps. He remembered staring in the dusty mirror, flexing them as his ego grew. He remembered the playful sting as his sister slapped his arm, her eyes bright with passionate annoyance as her tongue shot rapid fire Spanish. Her clothes had been torn and ripped, coated with the thick stench of blood but underneath it all, on the top back of her left shoulder, was a mark that ruined everything. 

The rush of bile threatened its way up his throat as the memory resurfaced. His hand curled in until his nails dug painfully into his skin, the pain acting as an anchor to repress the memory of her. As the echo of her mischievous smile drifted away, Lance chastised himself for allowing himself to be distracted by it as he realised his fault. While he had been caught in the cloud of his memories, he had accidentally stumbled past the hallway and into the heart of the building. It opened into a large space, almost half the size of a stadium, broken windows spotted the pale walls. The space was two storeys and Lance, being on the top, was able to peer below by the metal balcony that once restricted accidents of daydreaming children. Despite its large size, the shopping centre was relatively average, if not smaller, than Lance had known- instead recalling levels and levels of open store windows, littered with lights and possible purchases. The comfortable settle of chatter over the entire building, the distant wails and babbles of small children that would clutch and drag adults’ fingers towards their favourite store. He remembered the wonder he’d felt as a child as his mother had pulled up to a mammoth sized building; he’d felt so excited yet terrified at the mere maze before him. 

_“But mamá, it’s a lab-e-rinth! What happens if I get lost?!” Little Lance had wailed, tugging heavily on his mother’s hands as his large blue eyes began to cloud with oncoming tears. His mother cooed softly and knelt to his level, her warm, soft tan hands had swiped gently under his eyes, her own melting brown eyes only held warmth and compassion for her cub. “Do not worry, my Leoncito. Nothing will harm you while I’m around.” Her voice gentle and comforting; a lullaby unless threatened. She had stood, after making sure his nose was blown against a small tissue she had produced, and held her hand out. Quickly, his small tan hand had joined her own and they had begun their descent into the chaos of people in the centre._

Lance pushed down against his choked up throat, the familiar prickling of sadness began to make themselves known in the corners of his eyes, and pressed forward. His eyes traced the insides of the small shops, looking towards the scattered and vacant stock of the once popular shops. When the apocalypse had begun, as expected in any sort of zombie film, everything that was once considered ‘order’ fell into chaos. People ransacked homes, shops, anything they could get their hands on. The first few weeks had resulted in a number of scuffles, murders, fires, explosions… and the eating of flesh. Of course there was the rumour of a safe area. An area where everything was beautifully pristine and the same as the old world where a cure would have been made and slowly the purification would begin. But, that’s just it. The old world was only a front for the true disgusting presence of the world that the apocalypse seemed to uncover. A world of violence, selfishness and the one instinct humankind has had since the stone ages.

Survival of the fittest. 

When Lance finally came across his destination, he stopped. He walked through a shattered window and into the pharmacy, carefully avoiding as much glass as possible as to not alert the hoards that were undoubtedly scattered throughout the building. While Lance was mostly camouflaged due to his… situation, amongst a hoard his chances of being discovered by one was more likely. And being discovered by one meant being discovered by all of them. He couldn’t resist the sliver of fear that pierced down his heart as he recalled the snap of clicking teeth, the tear of flesh, the inconceivable pain. His fingers lifted to trace over the scar beneath his collarbone, half hidden by the scoop of his t-shirt. He traced each indent of teeth in a comforting gesture while his eyes scanned the shelves for the product. The pharmacy, as expected, was almost barren. The shelves that were once organised and stocked full were now bare, the occasional product that was left had been opened and emptied, only leaving the package. The room was darkened except for the shine of sunlight that flittered in from the centre’s large sunroof, illuminating specks of floating dust in beams. The once pristine white walls were now greyed; the occasional streaks of dirt and dried blood became more frequent as he moved towards the back counter. 

The back of the store was in the most disarray; the last few shelves had long since broken or toppled over, a pool of dried blood and chunks of unknown body parts littered the front of the counter. A pool of crimson reflected his tattered blood stained appearance back onto weary features. His eyes noticed the trail left from the pool that led behind the counter, and into the back room. Instantly, his body tensed and his fingers quietly gripped the handle of the hunting knife strapped to his belt. His hearing sharpened itself as a rush of adrenaline began to sweep through him, listening intently for the mere flicker of ‘life’. His body crouched low as he crept around the counter, eyes tracing the trail of blood while his senses screamed for a fight or flight response. Everything began to dull out of his ears except for the silence of the room and the slight pad of his sneakers against the tiled floor. He was so focused on the possible threat before him, Lance failed to recognise the distant sounds that would change the course of his life. 

When Lance had succeeded in silently stalking his way behind the counter, he found it absent of a body. Instead, he found the area to be almost suspiciously tidied, as if someone had been there recently. His body, that had once been tense, was now on high alert. He straightened himself into a higher crouch. His hands flew with practiced precision, taking out the knife and placing his backpack down quietly behind the counter; if he needed to run, the bag would only slow him down. While Lance appeared focused and level-headed, his heart pounded erratically and he struggled to regulate his breathing. After a few moments pause and a final deep breath, he turned the knob to the back room and stepped inside. 

The back room was much smaller than the outer shop, spanning about the space of four fridges. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, a perk of his ‘, inspecting the shelf covered walls. They were metallic and rose to the ceiling, speckled with coloured symbols and faint lettering that would have once been a form of categorisation. A single dangling light bulb hung from the ceiling, occasionally flickering dimly to life before it sputtered out once again. The room itself would have been undisturbed if it wasn’t for the thick scent of death and the body perched against the corner of the room. Lance took a sharp breath, immediately regretting it as the stench of blood and rot stung his nostrils. With watery eyes and wavering confidence, his eyes took one final scan of the mostly barren shelves to find their mark right above the collapsed body. A couple of familiar bottles sat innocently just above the dead body’s slouched head. 

_Jackpot._

His lips split into a grin, a now foreign feeling. Moving quickly, he propped the door open with a loose piece of junk and stalked his way towards the body. His footfalls were silent as each step was calculated and precise - a sadly necessary trait that he had gained. Soon, he overlooked the slouched body, his form casting harsh shadows over its peeled and rotted skin. Lance took in the body), looking for any irregularities of death. It had been dead long before it had been re-killed. Its eyes were the startling shade of icy blue that indicated the infection. Its pupils were pale, surrounded by a sea of frosty blue before it revealed bloodshot whites. The eyes were terrifying and yet Lance had always found them hauntingly beautiful. An almost brilliant side effect of…you know… not having a pulse. Yet now, the eyes before him were glazed, staring off into the space that no being could see. 

Its skin had long since lost its natural human glow, instead trading the common pink tinge for a grey, loitered with peeled skin and the occasional appearance of sprouted bone. Its jaw was lolled open, tongue and teeth coated in dried blood. Lance’s vision travelled to its arms, eyes widening as he became conscious of the body’s death. Its arms were trapped. Not by any accident or fallen debris, but a hunter’s trap. Fear shot through Lance’s veins like ice. He began to stumble back, his hands flailing for something to hold on to. Everything had gone cold. 

Hunters or Players were the type of people that grasped optimistically at the whole apocalypse situation. They thought, “Hey. If we’re going to go out anyway, might as well have fun with it.” They lost all sense of humanity, using the undead and areas to set traps and play games for ‘points’. The thing is, as Lance had accidentally come to know, was that Players didn’t care if it had a pulse or not. This was because they’d be dead one way or another soon.

Lance’s body twisted towards the exit, his actions no longer being cautious. His shoes slid accidentally out the door in his scramble to get away, his hands frantically grabbing his bag as he dashed his way out of the pharmacy. If you saw a Players’ trap anywhere, it meant only one thing. You were in their territory. And right now, the whole store was a playground of booby traps. 

Lance slammed his body against the railing of the balcony, his hands curling tightly around the cool metal banister. Words blurred together in his mind. Sentences of strategy twisted together with panic and doubts. He tried to stifle down his overwhelming emotions, attempting to force the sudden blockage in his throat. Vision began to tunnel, breathing became difficult. Imaginative horrors and previous memories of Players were arising in his mind. He remembered the pain of nails that dug into his shoulder, the crazed laughter and footsteps that chased him. He recalled the horrifying screams of those who hadn’t managed to escape. The scent of blood, gunfire and alcohol had stung the air. His arm cramped with phantom pains. 

A voice. 

_Breathe Leoncito._

_Breathe._

_You’re having a panic attack again._

_You have to ground yourself._

_Lance._

Air. Gushes of putrefied rot flooded his lungs yet felt like streams of fresh water. He gulped it in greedily, his sharp intakes echoed in his ears. At some point, he had fallen to his knees, his hands continued to grasp the bannister while his forehead was pressed against metal. He tried to remember everything he had been taught by doctors. Breathing techniques, distractions, talking. He sat like that for minutes, regaining his senses slowly but surely. One might have mistaken him for a corpse at the deathly still stance of his shoulders, interrupted only by the way his shoulders heaved with everything breath. Think it through. Lance’s mind finally began to catch up with him. He took pleasure in the familiar icy presence of his detached strategic side that began to make itself known. That part of his mind seemed to keep him alive through the shit show of the world. 

His eyes fluttered close for a moment, taking pleasure in the abyss that finally brought his panic to a close. The curtain of darkness seemed to nullify the pounding of his heart in his ears, dulling his acute awareness of the trickle of tears that seemed to seep themselves into the cracks of his lips. His tongue poked out quickly to lightly lap at the salty moisture, his dry throat aching for more. But a sudden noise got his heart skyrocketing once again, yet this time it was a familiar panic. A panic that Lance had become accustomed to using to his advantage.

The noise was joined by similar groans, echoing off the dirtied walls. He shot to his feet like a bullet, hefting his backpack onto his shoulder before regaining a sweaty grip on the knife. Lance’s gaze trailed to the corridor he had originally come through, his eyes accustomed to searching through dim lighting. The noises only seemed to echo around him as he tried to locate the source. As the sounds continued, Lance was able to decipher the clicking of teeth, rustling of clothes and the scuffle of shoes through the consistent pained growls. 

Without turning his back to the corridor, he slowly began to walk backwards, using the bannister as a stabilising grip. His eyes strayed from the corridor every few moments, seeking a way out of the oncoming threat. He quickly skimmed his options. The chances of being able to escape the scenario before him, knowing he was skilled in the art of avoidance, were at least 35%; a pretty high percentage. Lance knew that while the corridor as an escape route was obviously scratched out, he could just as easily jump over the bannister onto the lower level and make a break for the entrance.

A sudden piercing, inhumane screech sounded closer than the rest. Lance’s head snapped towards the sound, finding himself looking over the bannister onto the lower floor to see an emerging hoard. Their bright eyes never seemed to locate him but, with Lance’s superior eye-sight, the flaring of their rotted or mutilated noses told him that sight wasn’t the only way he could be found. A swarm’s acute senses, other than sight, were typically what got any stray human killed – a lack of knowledge on their enemy causing over-confidence.

Lance cursed to himself. His chances suddenly lowered to 15%. Time trickled by, each moment the swarm was getting closer to turning into the corridor where their icy stares would pin Lance in place and his chances would fall to zero. His mind flicked through more options, each one riskier than the last. They ranged from blazing through the hoard below like he was Paul Walker back from the grave to pretending to be a zombie and attempting to sneak through – which he had tried once an episode of Walking Dead. It only managed to work for approximately five seconds before he found himself running down main street with a limping zombie trying to grab for his ass. By the time Lance had flicked through tens of his stored plans, his chances had decreased to 7% and the lump in his throat had returned in full force. But Lance always thought seven was his lucky number and it was only proved when he thought of his greatest plan. Without another second to waste, he turned away from the corridor and ran. 

While he agreed it not his most strategic plan, running had always seemed to save his ass somehow; during and not during the apocalypse. He briefly recalled the feeling of his bare feet slapping against the hot pavement, strings of Spanish curses whipping at his back as a group of bullies chased him. He remembered the slow trickle of hot blood down his nose, the hot wind gliding past his bare arms and the glazed feeling that had settled over his mind. Yet, he hadn’t stopped running then and he couldn’t stop running now. Lance practically leaped towards the frozen escalators; the whines of the undead merely had grown in volume along with the gnashing of teeth. The scent of rot had long since filled the air. 

Multiple feet began to slap against the floor and an anticipated fear sudden struck his core. The feeling of their icy stares had finally made itself known. If he turned now, he’d see the creatures of the swarm coming to the realisation that their food tonight would be fast food and the zombies from the corridor would have long since come to a similar realisation. The only problem that arose for them now was who would get a bite before all the meat was gone.

His feet skid to a stop at the top of the escalators where he finally turned around to face the odds. What he perceived was what Lance assumed would be a similar experience to watching an oncoming tsunami from the beach. Horrifying yet with an unexpected tranquillity as he peered into the ferocious eyes of his killers, their mouths salivating and foaming at the mere sight of him (on any other day Lance would have happily made a comment about how even the undead couldn’t resist him) and their bodies speedily making their way over. The zombies that were coming from the corridor now had Lance in their sights, overflowing from the tight doorway like ants from a nest. 

Another sound suddenly pierced through the overwhelming ruckus of the swarm. It was bright and cut through the noise like a warm knife to butter. It lingered in the air like a ghost of his childhood past, long since forgotten but pleasant to remember. A lingering memory of bonfires on the beach and his abuela’s home recipes. The sound was laughter, crazed and delirious with hopelessness. Lance had realised that his chances had never been that high. He had always been too confident. Always taking on too much. Never knew when to actually stop. His chances had always been zero. His sight became blurred but he was too tired to care. Even when two hot trails began to drip down his chin, he couldn’t stop laughing to wipe them off. The sound was broken, a shell of what it had been when he was a child.

If Lance had been paying a little more attention, maybe he would have actually been able to spot the tactical movement of shadows behind him or the new gazes that fell onto his broken form. A new sense of anticipation was palpable in the air, for what Lance did not know. The knife slipped out of his hands, its clattering noise suppressed by screeches. Everything was muffled. Distant shouts, his now hoarse low chuckles and familiar rapid gunfire began to bring on a new wave of pain from the hoards. Suddenly, a firm grip grasped his shoe. Looking down, Lance saw a zombie that had managed sink its bloodied and deformed hand into his converse. A closer shout of panic sounded from behind Lance but he was lost in its hypnotising eyes. Its legs had been broken yet it had managed to climb the escalators first. Its eyes were barren yet its face was set in a somewhat animalistic determination. Lance was entranced by what was right in front of him. He could never imagine Death’s cold gaze to feel so familiar, so comfor-

A force pushed him from behind, hot and searing as it blistered his skin. An inhumane roar of distress erupted from his lips, his vision going white yet the memory of ice blues eyes were the last thing he registered before darkness finally embraced him.


	2. Introducing the trio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, so it's been a while since I posted but I got held up and I wasn't sure if I should continue this but here is the 2nd chapter and the 3rd should hopefully be out sometime in the next week. Anyway, leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed this!! THANK YOU
> 
> If you want to send me anything check out my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idekanymore-m8

**Chapter 2**

_“Come on Lance!” she whined, her small hand close to tugging his arm off as she dragged his sleep riddled mind down the stairs. Her face was lit up with a smile that rivalled that of the stars, bright and mesmerising. A true, killer McClain smile._

_The distant lapping of waves on the shore and the soft radio station that hummed from the kitchen stereo were the sounds of home. A calm and comforting embrace of familiarity. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, her grip on his arm didn’t waver for a moment and she began to pull him outside their small home. The dawn had yet to fully break across the horizon as they made their ways outside, the spilling of pinks and blues across the sky brightened Lance’s mind. He groaned and spluttered incoherent denial yet she completely ignored him, his eyes forced to watch her hair sway back and forth with each determined step. Her wavy dark brown hair cascaded down past her bare shoulder blades, a warm contrast to the family’s tanned skin._

_When he finally came to grasp a stable sense of mind, he was able to form coherent protest. “Chloe! Do you know how early it is?! If you wanted to show someone so badly, why didn’t you get Matilda?!” The girl merely shot a devilish grin back in response, something Lance had taught the twins at a young age and had now come to regret heavily. Chloe’s tinkling laughter peeled out of her lips as she continued to drag Lance across their green lawn, yet she remained silent otherwise._

_By the time the pair finally came to a stop, they stood at the edge of the cliffs in town, their hands grasped tightly together as they looked out onto the melting sky that met the ocean. They stood in silence, the sounds of crashing waves and the smell of sea salt fresh in the air. An old reminder of home. At such a beautiful and familiar sight, Lance couldn’t help but feel a sort of melancholy and he wasn’t the only one._

_“How can something so beautiful, mean the end?” Chloe’s wavering voice whispered, yet Lance easily heard it. With a sigh, he brought his arms around her small frame, bringing her into his chest as to muffle her oncoming sobs. To neighbours, they would see the two standing in an embrace and feel a wash of sweetness at the familial love. But what they couldn’t see were the littering of purple and black that hide beneath their clothes.  
._

..

…

….

….

…...

A hot spike shot up his arm.

“Crap,” a voice hissed into his ear. It was high pitched and frantic like a scampering mouse. “Hey, Hunk! Lift his arm for me will you? Goddamn bastard won’t stop wriggling.”

A shuffle of feet against carpet came through the darkness before he felt a pressure lifting up one arm. Another voice.

“Don’t you swear at him. It was your fault he’s in this mess anyway. Who brings a bomb on a supply mission?! What were you thinking?!” This voice was warm and deep. It reminded Lance of the gentle purr of engines that stretched down the highway. Familiar. 

The first voice let out a huff and answered in a sort of frustrated amused tone, “I was thinking, ‘Hey, why don’t I bring a little bit of defence that might save our lives?’ I wasn’t considering that there would be anyone alive out here. We both know whose territory this is!” The voice drifted off with a final hiss. An anxious silence settled over the room. “How did he even survive out here?” the first voice questioned again, this time it seemed to be only to themselves.

The silence continued and soon the pain became too overwhelming. Lance welcomed the dreamless darkness.

…

It was quite when Lance woke, the presence of the voices were void. His eyes slowly cracked open, watering at the unexpected brightness of daylight that filtered through the room. When his eyes finally adjusted, he began to inspect his surroundings. The room itself was one section of what appeared to be an apartment complex, a long, sort of rectangular size. He lay on the tattered couch of what he assumed was once a living room, the walls littered with old family pictures next to dusted and cracked windows that looked down onto the town. The floors were a dark wood, some sections now rotted and holes spotted the floor to reveal darkness underneath. From where Lance was positioned he noticed the room split off into three doorways, two on the wall in front of him and one on the wall to his left. He instantly assumed that the one of his left exited into a hallway of sorts; an easy escape. Clattering of pots brought Lance back to his senses, the sound coming from behind his head. A fourth doorway. 

Sudden panic filtered through his system. What if his ‘saviours’ were merely trying to examine his dead corpse for research purposes? What if they weren’t his saviours at all? Players? With those simple doubts, Lance’s mind was resolved; leaving was his safest option. 

He began to push himself up, gritting his teeth painfully at the sharp ache that made itself known along his back. He glanced around the room quickly before spotting his backpack on a table with all of its contents spilled across it. Cursing to himself, Lance realised he would probably have to leave it behind if he wanted to escape undetected. He pushed himself to his feet, one hand firmly grasping his throbbing arm, beginning to tiptoe his way towards the closest door. Yet, as he passed the table, his eyes couldn’t resist glimpsing over a photograph. A stinging pain shot to his heart, distracting him from his side for a brief moment as he came to the realisation that he wouldn’t be able to leave without it. Almost ignorant to the potential danger, Lance was almost in a trance as he walked towards the photograph. His hands shook as they ran over the torn edges of the picture, tracing his fingers over the smiling faces of the ghosts. Their bright eyes filled with mirth, an unadulterated joy. 

“Well, well, well. Look who’s awake.” A piercing voice from behind jolted Lance out of his concentration, “Hunk, looks like your damsel in distress has awoken from his slumber.”

Instantly, Lance whipped around and took a defensive stance; his back to the wall and his stronger arm raised in a fist. Lance’s expectation of a rugged and possibly crazy teenage survivor was quickly shattered as he took in the tiny girl that was smirking at him from a doorway. Pale skinned, light brown almost blonde hair in a pixie cut, a pair of round glasses perched atop her nose, barely hiding her golden mischievous eyes. She was sporting a hideous, massive sweater with orange and green stripes under an equally oversized brown coat with what appeared to be shorts and a worn pair of sneakers. 

 

“Who are you?” Lance questioned, his voice hoarse and dry. He swallowed and licked his lips as he realised how dehydrated he was. The girl seemed to notice this, her hand disappearing behind the doorway before reappearing with a water bottle grasped between her fingers.

Lance desperately eyed the water when she speaks again, “Sit down. You’ve opened your stitches.” Lance blinked in surprise as she nonchalantly began to make her way over to him, her movements relaxed yet her eyes guarded as they studied him. Lance felt the urge to squirm under her gaze as she stopped next to the couch, motioning her hand for him to sit down. Timidly, he shuffled back to the couch, the photograph tucked into his back pocket. As he sits down again, he can’t resist the sharp hiss that escapes his teeth at the pain that resonates from his back. He was met with light chuckling, “Yeah,” she begins, “sorry about the whole ‘accidentally blowing you up thing’, was totally not meant to go down that way.” 

He almost began to ask another question when a booming voice interrupted, “What did you expect was going to happen?! It was a bomb!” Turning his head towards the sound, he’s met with his second saviour; a beefed up dark skinned guy that looked both huggable and…thug-able. The guy was much taller than his companion and much stronger as by the looks of his bared arms. His dark hair was held back by an orange headband that matched the orange kevlar looking vest that seemed to peek out beneath his hoodie. Unlike the girl, this guy seemed capable and reasonable enough to wear long pants. The most intimidating thing about this guy to Lance was the fact that his gloves were stained in blood. He could almost feel himself visibly pale as he took in the tank before him.

The girl scoffed, “Well it’s not like I killed him.” her arms crossed over her chest.

The tank, in utter disbelief, replied with, “Are you kidding me?! He had a glass shard the size of my thumb sticking out of his armpit.” His arms flew up as he continued, “And not to mention blisters and burns that are covering his back and how bruised his arm is!” She only seemed to wince in response to this, sending Lance an unconvincing apologetic smile. 

The tank let out a heaving sigh, his hand coming to rub the bridge of his nose, sort of appearing like a parent who just discovered their child spray painting in a school. Lance, while extremely terrified, was mildly amused. 

“Hey,” he begins, trying to lean gently against the couch without causing more pain, “can I get some context on the situation because I’m just slightly lost as to what’s going on.” His two saviours seemed to glance at one another before looking back to him. 

The tank was the first one to speak, “I’m Hunk. The devil who almost got you killed over there, is Pidge. We were scavenging for supplies with our group in Player territory when we ran into you.” Lance couldn’t help the sharp bark of laughter that escapes, stifling the pain that coupled the sound.

“Ran? More like exploded into my life like the Kool-Aid man from family guy.”

Pidge smirked, “Nice reference. Classic.”

Lance shoots her a boyish smile before looking back to a now slightly amused looking Hunk. “Anyway,” he continues, “we ‘ran’ into you when we realised that you weren’t another zombie, but a person who had been caught up in the shit-storm that we had made. Figured that we couldn’t just leave you there considering you’d done nothing wrong”

“And we were curious as to what you’re doing out in Player territory.” Pidge interrupted, ignoring the sharp warning look that Hunk sent her way. “So, we struck a deal. I use my amazing medical skills to save your bony ass and in return, you give us some answers and maybe we can work out what to do next.” 

Lance’s good hand was covering his eyes as his head leaned back against the cushions. His mind attempted to quickly process the information that was presented while also trying to figure out a survival method at the same time. A headache began to form in the centre of his skull, throbbing incessantly to the thrum of his heart. The room was almost silent despite the curious tension that began to build.

“Let me get this straight. You struck a deal with me while I was unconscious? Remind me, my memory’s foggy, what’s consent again, gremlin?” Lance could feel the sharp gaze that met him at that last comment. He was waiting until she began to rip his throat out when a weight dropped onto the cushion beside him. he scent of honey wafted through his senses as Hunk ignored his comment.

“What were you doing that far out in Player territory?” The concerned tone of the man beside him gave Lance the impression of a protective mother bear rather than a tank. Lance chose to ignore that particular question and continued to stare into the ceiling. He heard the huffing noises of Pidge and the stare of both saviours as they awaited his answer. But, it was something he couldn’t give them unless he wanted to be killed. He couldn’t even imagine their reactions when he’d reply with, “Well, I was bitten a couple months ago but I haven’t turned yet but I’m not sure why. I was out that far because of some dramatics and blah blah blah”. He might as well load the shotgun and hand it to them. 

“Look,” Pidge started, her voice was void of the standard snarky tone, “you don’t have to tell us anything but it seems like you had it pretty rough. We all have.” The sincerity of her voice was matched with a scarily familiar emptiness. Lance turned to look at her and only saw her eyes dulled, an image that he saw almost every time he looked in a mirror.

Hunk’s voice started up after another moment of silence for the trio, “We can’t offer much here. But, if you’d like, we can introduce you to our colony. Maybe organise a settlement for you or at least give you some basic supplies if you’re heading somewhere.” Images of a possible future gently found their way into Lance’s mind, however each image was broken by flashes of lifeless eyes and toe-curling screams. “Either way, both of us need to get going soon. We split up from our group and they’re no doubt back at the colony by now, and if we don’t get back in time then we’re gonna be in a hell of a lot of trouble. What’s it gonna be?” 

Lance simply stared out the window overlooking the bleak overgrown city. Everything was grey, smoke and clouds curdled together but the most haunting thing was there was no noise. No echo of life. Lance considered his chances, looking to his saviours before looking back into the city. The decision was clear. Hunk and Pidge shared a smile.

…

“Boooooooooored,” Lance groaned, dragging his feet along the dusted rooftop. Hunk and Pidge, having accidentally destroyed his shirt in the explosion, had managed to find a pair of clothes that happened to fit. Now in a classic navy NASA t-shirt, loose sports pants and a grey hoodie, Lance was trailing behind his two new companions as they hopped and climbed across the rooftops of the city towards what they called ‘home’.

Pidge flicked a loose rock at him, scoffing, “Don’t be a baby. We’re not far now.”

Lance sighed, scuffing his ‘new’ shoes on some loose rubble as they walked, the two in front of him sharing whispers on location and the ‘best route to take’. Lance observed the city, a noiseless, grey dump. It was hard for him to remember that once this city was impossible to shut up. However, he could remember the night his mother brought him and his family in from the coast to see a play. He remembered the hot, sticky summer air as the city thrummed with life around them. He remembered the glimmering lights and his sister’s small hands grasped firmly in his own as they walked down the busy road. The small whimpering of his baby brother who clung to his mother’s hip as their father was far behind them, his shouts muffled by the passing wail of cars. Lance was only eleven, his younger sisters only six. Benji was only seventeen months old while Rafi was tightly curled up inside his mother. Lance remembered looking back to his mother and seeing her content, relaxed composure as they walked down the street. She was seven months pregnant with oily, mismanaged hair and hadn’t slept properly in weeks but to young Lance, she had never looked more beautiful. 

“Hey!” A hand grasped firmly at his injured arm, jerking him back and causing pain to rip through his body. Lance stumbled blindly backwards, balancing himself with his good arm against the rooftop railing. As the pain settled down he looked up angrily to find a confused Hunk staring him down. 

“What was that for?!” Lance yelled, his arm continuing to throb more rapidly. Looking down, he pulled his hand away to find blood quickly covering his hand over the wound again.

“You almost walked off the roof, man. You were in some sort of daze.” Hunk responded, his tone was concerned and yet curious. Lance straightened himself out, chastising himself internally for his foolishness. All that time worrying about surviving only to almost fall of a roof because of some memory. Hunk, sensing the self-depreciating atmosphere surround Lance, sent him a heart-warming grin. “I just realised something,” he began, “we don’t even know your name! I’ve just been referring to you as ‘man’.” At that confession, Lance couldn’t resist the small smile that managed to crack onto his face.

With as much swagger as he could muster, he ran his non-injured hand through his hair, “The name’s McClain. Lance McClain.” He said, shooting Hunk a wink as his hand formed a little finger gun action. Only a single moment managed to pass before the two erupted in laughter at the absurdity of it all. 

The two were still suffering from lasting chuckles when Pidge managed to realise that the two weren’t behind her, but at that point she was almost three rooftops away and could only shout profanities at them as they jogged to catch up. However, when the two were asked why they were so slow, they only looked at one another at answered with a nonchalant brush off and a secret smile. Hunk finally introduced Lance to Pidge who merely rose an eyebrow and responded with, “Like the stick weapon in medieval times?” Lance only answered with a devilish smirk and a wiggling of eyebrows before she threw another rock at him and stomped away, grumbling about ‘boys being stupid’. 

For the rest of the journey, the trio shared past stories and managed to uphold light banter, occasionally falling into momentary silence as they surveyed the damage of the undead. The first silence was when they watched as the others took down an older zombie, only walking away when they heard its dying screeches fill the air as the others began to feast. The second was when they found a couple in the corner of a rooftop, their brains splattered across the floor as they were curled up beside one another. The sky continued its murky grey throughout the hours that passed, the only indication that time was passing was from Pidge announcing it every hour. It took them three hours of rooftop walking for them to reach the colony.

Lance wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Hunk and Pidge talked about the colony but it was definitely not what he saw. The colony was an old evacuation settlement; areas of cities that were built with defences when the outbreak first occurred. The area of the city was closed in a thick metal wall that reached to the height of the building they stood on. Lance could barely see over the top of the wall, only managing to glimpse the outlines of apartment blocks. However, he could see where the wall curved around in a large circle. Lance walked to the edge of the rooftop, his eyes trailing down towards the street as he recognised the familiar grunts and moans of the undead as they stumbled blindly along the road. His eyes widened, it was the largest hoard he had ever seen, all assembled outside the city wall.

Hunk came to stand next to him, “They’re all around the border.” he confirmed, noticing Lance’s gaze, “That’s why it’s so important that we’re careful and safe. We have families in there.” Lance looked up towards Hunk, only to see him gazing towards the wall before opening his mouth again, “It’s our job to keep them safe.” He looked down toward Lance, his gaze serious and hard, making Lance gulp as his throat became dry. “I will keep them safe.” What Lance had assumed started as an inform had turned into a threat from the teddy bear, Hunk. Lance could only nod in understanding. Instantaneously, Hunk brightened considerably, “Let’s go introduce you to everyone!”

The entrance to the colony was, unsurprisingly, through a random tunnel from one of the apartment complex’s basement. It led directly into the colony. Hunk hadn’t spoken another word to Lance since his silent threat and Pidge was too focused fiddling with some random pieces she had picked up. Lance simply watched her fingers dance together in what appeared to him as a fumble yet to her each move was calculated and trained. It was fascinating to watch yet also nerve-wracking to see how quickly she could whip up another bomb. After that thought Lance made sure to stand a few extra steps back from the gremlin. The tunnel was quick to get through, however, the darkness seemed to stretch time along as the trio stumbled blindly through the narrow walls. Lance pitied anyone who was claustrophobic at that time. Lance was the last one into the tunnel, following behind Hunk who followed behind Pidge. After a couple minutes of shuffling silence, Lance was lost in thought when he bumped into Hunk. He was about to question the teddy-bear when he realised that Pidge had also stopped. The tunnel was once again silent except for the shallow breathing of the trio when a rhythmic knocking upon metal resonated throughout the chamber, the sound bouncing harshly off each wall as it travelled back into the darkness. After another minute of waiting, the metal door opened and brought with it the light and sound.

“Hello there, Katie! Hunk!” a strange accent exclaimed, “I’m glad to see you two unharmed. Shiro will be mighty glad to see you two back safely.”

Pidge simply grumbled and shuffled into the basement. Hunk chuckled lightly and was about to respond when a deep voice suddenly broke through, “Pidge, Hunk! Where have you two been? You were supposed to meet at the rendezvous yesterday evening. What happened?” The mysterious voice seemed strict yet also concerned. Lance was still quite literally in the dark as the hulking figure of Hunk hid his view from the light and these new faces.

Lance made an ‘accidental’ coughing noise to alert the others to his presence. The room seemed to freeze as Hunk stepped forward to reveal Lance to the light. Lance squinted against the offending lamp that sat in the corner, dimly illuminating the room and its occupants. Pidge was nowhere in sight, however, two new faces seemed to gaze at Lance with guarded curiosity. The first face Lance noticed was an orange haired man with piercing blue eyes. His hair was pulled back into a mid-bun and he wore plain garments of that of a doctor or nurse. Lance assumed he was in his late 30s from the wrinkles on his face, however his cheerful smile and demeanour reminded Lance of his late uncle. The second face Lance noticed was that of the strict voice. He had short black hair with a tuft of white at the front and a pale pink scar that stretched across his nose. His grey eyes were calculating, his bare arm folded across his black shirt with a pair of camouflage pants. Lance had to blink twice at the metal prosthetic that was his right arm, beautiful and deadly. Through Lance’s limited knowledge of the military through crappy television shows and movies, he could definitely tell this guy was either military or a crime lord.

The room itself as Lance finally began to notice was that of a barren medical facility. The room was littered with three or four beds, a couple benches with medical equipment and two bookcases filled with other medical supplies such as ointments, medications and notes. On the furthest wall to Lance’s amusement was a worn photo of a cat that had a bandaged paw with an inspirational quote, “If I can do it, so can you!” He stifled a laugh with a cough when he noticed the three faces were still looking at him.

Lance raised his hand awkwardly, “’Sup.” The two new faces blinked in bemusement at his introduction before looking straight to a sheepish looking Hunk, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

“Long story short, it was Pidge’s fault.” Hunk said defensively, raising his hands as if to appeal to an officer. 

The military-guy-with-a-wicked-arm simply sighed before leaning against a wall, letting his head fall back to thump against the concrete of the basement. With a moment of peace, he raised his hand and made a waving motion towards the orange-haired man, sending him straight into action. The orange haired man approached Lance and stuck out a hand with an accompanying grin, “Hello, my boy! My name is Coran, I’m the head nurse in the colony, over there is our team leader, Shiro. I’m going to be doing some introduction tests that every newcomer must do before we allow them into the colony. It’s a simple safety precaution of course. It won’t hurt a bit!”

While Coran spoke, he managed to lead Lance towards one of the beds, sitting him down before walking off for a stethoscope, a torch and a needle. While Lance was being manhandled by Coran, he noticed Hunk approaching Shiro nervously before they began to share whispers. The only words he managed to pick up were “Pidge?”, “went to… red…”, “Sorry…bomb…” With Lance’s failed attempts to eavesdrop, Coran had already begun to poke and prod at his skin, earning him a couple of hisses as he annoyed the tender skin. The orange haired man simply apologised unapologetically before continuing his evaluation. Lance failed to pay him any mind as he continued to listen to Shiro and Hunk who had changed conversations to the zombie hoards and Players. He couldn’t help but be curious at the possibility of impending death and doom. The feeling of chilled metal began to slink along his chest. Suddenly, the sound of steps began to come down the stairs along with light chatter when Coran inhaled sharply. 

Four things happened in sequence in what seemed to be thirty seconds. Coran stepped away from Lance, his stethoscope falling to the ground. All chatter went silent as Lance’s head snapped towards a paled Coran.

“It’s a code blue.” His voice managed to choke out, his blue eyes gone wide with fear.

Instantly, Lance was off the bed and approaching a retreating Coran. Panic set in quickly as Lance raised his hands as if trying not to scare of a frightened animal. “Listen to me. I was bitten, yes. But it was months ago. I haven’t turned. You have to believe me.” Lance’s voice cracked in desperation as he rambled. His heart thrummed heavily in his ears, his own voice being drowned out yet he could feel his lips moving.  
“Keith stop!” A sharp voice yelled, causing Lance to almost fall out of his trance. His ears cleared momentarily as he stared at a now shaking Coran.

“Who the fuck is Keith?” He questioned, beginning to turn around when a blur of red and black blinded him into darkness. The pain was sharp as Lance fell to the floor, everything went silent and for the fourth time in two days, Lance was met by nothingness.


	3. Memories and Mullet Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologise so much!!! I said it would be out much earlier than this but my editor was really busy and couldn't get it back to me!! I"M SO SORRY
> 
> But here it is and just a note that there are translations at the bottom of the page. THANK YOU!!!
> 
> If you want to send me anything check out my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idekanymore-m8

**Chapter 3**

_It was the harshest winter the coast had ever faced. The wind and rain had beaten against their small home. The windows and walls had seemed to moan in agony at the pressure that was being exerted. Huddled in the back of the house, underneath their bathroom sink, Lance, his two little sisters and a sleeping Benji, whimpered in the dark. Ten-year-old Lance sat upright, listening intently to the storm and damage outside, tensed and ready to protect his family. Baby Benji laid curled into his chest, his small fingers digging slightly into the fabric of his shirt as small puffs of air escaped his lips. Chloe and Matilda were leaned closely to Lance’s sides, their hands shaking from the chill._

_However, it wasn’t only the chill that brought trembles into the children but the noise. Behind the howling wind and the battering of the nearby shore, beneath all that clamour, the children could hear the fighting. The yelling that was typically muffled by their own sobs or the hands of Lance that clasped tightly over his sibling’s ears was instead concealed by the natural uproar outside. But it didn’t contain the occasional cries of their mother as their father beat her into the wall. It couldn’t contain the stomping of his feet as his drunken voice called out for the children._

_“Where are you hiding brats?!”, his voice slurred, the clinking of his bottle dragging against the wall accompanied him. The twins squeezed against Lance, folding themselves in as to hide from the monster that approached. Lance could only coo gently into their ears, whispering comforting lies that lulled them into a belief that Lance no longer believed. Almost like a fairy tale._

_For only a moment before the storm, the children were allowed a moment of peace._

_The screaming began when the door slammed open and the hulking shadow fell over them all._

_…_

Lance jolted upright only to be slammed backward by force. His back slammed heavily against a wall, causing him to whimper at the pain that shot down his spine. With heavy gulps of air, Lance allowed his eyes to gently inspect the room. He’d awoken in a stone brick room, no windows or bars, only darkness lit by a couple of stray candles. On the far side of the room, he thought he could make out the outline of a door but shadows played with his sight. Softly, he allowed his head to fall back against the wall, bringing his eyes to a close. The darkness let Lance to collect his thoughts and repress the memories of his father’s malicious grin. A light sheen of sweat covered his face, an occasional droplet slipping down. Each stray droplet stung the cracked dryness of his lips, his tongue poked out to catch the offending moisture. It was only when Lance had calmed his breathing, was he able to feel the cold weight of shackles that bound his hands. His eyes shot open at the realisation. His hands twitched against their prisons, moving experimentally against the force to see how strong he was held captive. From what Lance could gather, he was chained to the wall like a rabid dog awaiting to be ‘put down’. 

“Are you kidding me?” he whispered angrily to himself, letting out a disgruntled huff as the chains clinked softly against one another. 

A sudden soft grunt came from the shadows causing Lance to freeze. The noise came from the far-left corner among the darkest shadows in the room. Lance’s eyes drifted towards the corner, inspecting the shadows for the slightest wisps of movement when the door creaked open and light flooded into the room. His eyes stung painfully against the newfound light, adjusting quickly to see the familiar sight of a large shadow standing in the doorway. Lance felt himself visibly pale as flashes of gruesome smiles and screeches echoed in his mind. Unconsciously, Lance had begun to shield his body from the figure. But as Lance begun to recognise the familiar features of the man they called ‘Shiro’, he felt his muscles loosen. However, from the expressionand stature of Shiro, it seemed that Lance shouldn’t be relaxing. As Lance awaited the screaming and torture to begin, he was surprised when Shiro ignored his cowering figure and walked towards the once shadowed figure. The newly released light had dispelled the shadows, revealing his guard. The figure was leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. The figure wore all black clothing with black fingerless gloves. The only element of his outfit that splashed a bit of colour was the red scarf that seemed to peek out of his pockets.

Lance could already tell that this guy thought he was the shit. 

Lance listened intently as Shiro addressed the figure, “Did it do anything?” He flinched slightly at being referenced as ‘it’, his movement not going unnoticed by a sudden pair of inspecting eyes that burned along his flesh.

A voice responded with a solid, “No.”

In the next couple of minutes, Shiro asked the figure many questions, but the figure merely continued watching Lance and responded pathetically vaguely. As their dull and uninformative conversation continued, Lance felt himself get bored and came to the realisation that he didn’t have to be silent. 

“So”, he begun, causing the two figures to tense at his voice, “are you gonna kill me?” Lance tried his hardest to keep his voice casual and void of terror. Surprisingly to Lance, it was a lot easier to do than he expected. The two before him shared a glance, seeming to speak indirectly through eye-contact before Shiro approached. He stopped two metres from Lance, causing Lance to seem slightly confused as to why before he realised that he was the monster they chained up for their own safety.

“I’m going to ask some questions. You will answer truthfully or there will be consequences. Do you understand?” Shiro’s voice was firm and without argument, revealing nothing about his intentions. Lance, being the stubbornest individual of the McClain’s, kept his lips shut, however gleefully allowed a smirk to form on his face. Instantly, he could feel the heat of the shadows gaze, almost like he was trying to set Lance on fire. Lance’s eyes snapped to the figures gaze, blue ocean meeting raging storm. Before he could become entrapped by the swirl of angered colour, he placed on his favourite façade of flirty mischief. 

“Hey there. You look like someone who can handle the heat. However, I cannot. So, if you don’t mind, could you stop looking at me like I’m a marshmallow you’re trying to fry? Thanks, sugar.” Lance said with sickening sweetness, flashing a smile of false gratitude before turning his attention back to Shiro whose face was as blank as always, however his eyes gave away his bemusement of the situation. 

A whoosh of air hit Lance’s face and then there was a knife to his neck and a gorgeous face three inches from his own. Lance’s eyes widened as he took in the beauty before him. Dark ocean blue eyes that stood out upon his pale skin. A small scars dotted his skin, one particular caught Lance’s eye just crossing over his top lip. His black hair was tousled carelessly yet to Lance it seemed like an effortless splendour. If only it wasn’t for the small snarl that curled at his lips and the violent threatening gaze in his eyes, Lance might have been compelled to flirt with him.

“Keith. Pull back.” Shiro commanded, instantly causing ‘Keith’ to pull back into the shadows, his gaze continuing to pierce into Lance. 

Lance shook off the tingle that seemed to flicker in his stomach and smirked, “A mullet? What are you, a young Patrick Swayze?” Keith merely scoffed from the darkness and signalled to Shiro with a look of utter exasperation and annoyance. Shiro sighed and muttered something about ‘sexual tension’ and being ‘too old for this shit’. After a moment of silence, Shiro approached and squatted three feet from Lance’s form, his grey eyes piercing into Lance’s. 

“Listen, Lance”, he started, “I just need some answers and then maybe we can work something out. Perhaps something a little more comfortable than this DIY dungeon. Sound good?” Lance considered his request for a moment, his eyes darting to the shadows for a split second before returning to Shiro and nodding. He simply responded with a warm smile.

…

Lance was moved into a more comfortable position. That being said, they continued to have him chained to the wall but they provided the dull room with a wooden table, a couple of chairs and a couple of candles. The shadows in the room were dispelled and, sadly, so was Keith. Now Lance sat on one side of the table facing Shiro and the newly entered Coran whose head was down and skimming frantically along paper, occasionally glancing upon Lance before jotting down more words. Lance watched in amusement until Shiro leaned his elbows against the table, giving Lance a proper view of his metal prosthetic. His eyes followed each scratch in the metal as its plate dipped in on one another, scanning upwards along his arm in the desperate urge to see where metal met flesh. Catching his gaze, Shiro smiled sheepishly before letting his arm fall off the table. 

“Let’s begin, shall we?” Shiro asked, waiting for Lance’s barely noticeable nod when Coran interrupted.

“How were you bitten? When? How have you survived? Can you avoid the hoards? What’s your blood type? Did-”, A loud thump sounded from below the table causing Coran to stop talking and finally notice the angered glare from Shiro. Coran mumbled apologies as he shrunk in his chair. Lance merely let out a soft huff of laughter at the older man’s enthusiasm, carefully hiding his solemn attitude to the conversation. Before he would begin speaking, he turned directly towards Shiro’s gaze. 

“If there are some things I prefer not to answer, it isn’t because I’m some spy for your rival gang or some shit. It’s because I’ve got baggage that I’m barely keeping closed.” his voice was serious, his eyes flittered to Shiro’s arm and back, “I’m sure you can understand that.” 

The room’s atmosphere chilled. Shiro merely nodded stiffly, eyes dulled as he remembered his own ‘baggage’. Lance turned his gaze away to settle upon the splintering wood of the table. Collecting himself with carefully placed breaths, he began.

“I was bitten about four months ago somewhere on the coast. I will not be telling you how or where. I’ve survived on sheer luck and my dashing ninja-sharpshooter-like persona.” He received a kick under the table for that. 

“The hoards cannot detect my presence unless I make myself known. Unexpectedly for me, that’s harder as I am a naturally seen person”. Another sharp kick. Lance merely responded with an upward wink at the men before continuing, his eyes meeting their gazes. Silence briefly flittered into the room as the men listened to the scratching of pen on paper as if the scampering nails of a fleeing rat. Shiro’s regular hand came to pinch the bridge of his nose, his forehead crinkled in thought. When the pen came to a halt, Shiro spoke. 

“What were you doing all the way out here? Why were you in the mall?” his tone was genuinely inquisitive, no longer asking for the purposes of paper. Lance’s eyes became void of emotion, glazing over as he seemed to stare through the men. His tongue poked out to wet his cracked lips that slipped into a melancholic smile. 

“I’m running.” 

The men shivered at the haunted boy, imagining the ‘baggage’ that he carried. But Lance continued, “I…Everything is…” His voice faded out, his eyebrows pinching together giving him the appearance of a lost puppy. Coran merely laid a hand on the table, outstretched to the chained boy whom had now turned his attention towards him. 

Coran let a gentle smile glide onto his face, “It’s okay, my boy. You don’t have to push yourself.” Lance simply bobbed his head, his body in the room yet his mind elsewhere. The two men opposite him shared a glance and rose from the table, the motion not even startling the boy out of his thoughts. With quiet whisperings of reassurance and of his release, the two men left the room and the shell of the boy within it. 

…

_“Lance stop it!” she squeaked out amongst her giggles. Her bare feet skimmed through the plush grass, her toes tickled by the sensation. Behind her, a young Lance sprinted after her, a carefree look of unadulterated joy amongst his cerulean eyes. His laughter cackled brightly, echoing around the large backyard of their childhood home. The morning sky was stained with the yawning of the new day, swirls of light oranges and hues of blue. The scent of freshly fallen morning dew and the distant crispness of salty waves were the aromas of home._

_“Lancelot is simply coming to save you, princess!” He triumphantly raised his arm that clutched a plastic sword as he continued to chase after his little sister. Her giggles and squeals merged together as they chased one another in circles._

_With one final leap, Lance dove towards the princess, tackling her into a mound of supple grass. As the two rolled upon the carpet of green, laughter escaped their toothy grins, their blue eyes looking to the crystal-clear sky as their backs flopped to the ground. As their laughter subsided, the young dreamers looked to one another. Blonde and brown hair lay spread in a spider web amongst the green, flecks of dew seeping into their clothes._

_Suddenly, the backdoor to the house creaked open. The two children lifting their gazes to see their mother, hands on her hips with a disapproving look on her face with little Chloe hiding behind her dress, small hands clutching the cloth with her tearful blue eyes rimmed with red._

_“Lance Alejandro Teaghue McClain! Muévete el culo, buró arrogante!”_

_The two children paled, shooting to their feet as they raced towards the back porch. Eventually, the two stood before the shadow of their angered mother. Her gaze was stern as she looked down upon the trouble makers. Chloe sniffled slightly behind the shadow._

_“Te dije de cuidar a tus hermanas. Porque Chloe me está diciendo que no le dejaste jugar contigo?!"_

_“Pero mama-”_

_“No, mijo”, his mother interrupted, “Eres el hermano. Tendrías que ser justo. Pensaba que fueras más responsable!”_

_Lance’s head drooped, tears welled up in his eyes as he felt the heavy weight of his mother’s disappointment seem to drop itself on his shoulders. He heard a soft sigh escape her lips, coupled by her sudden soft whisperings of her native tongue to send his sisters back inside. The scampering of their feet and the creak close of the back door left Lance alone to the impending doom of his mother’s wrath. The unexpected warmth of a hand that rested upon his shoulder caused his head to snap upwards to meet his mother’s warm brown gaze._

_“Listen Leoncita. Tienes que siempre cuidar a tu familia. Siempre vamos a ser presente para ti entonces tenemos que ser presente para cada uno. Me entiendes ?”_

_Her voice was calm and serious. For once, she wasn’t speaking to him as a child but as someone who is to uphold their duty. His chest puffed upwards with pride._

_“Si, entiendo mama.”_

_His mother smiled warmly down at him, her thumb caressing the side of his cheek. He leaned into her comforting touch, smiling back at her with unrivalled happiness._

_“Mi precioso cachorro.”_

_…_

Ice shot through his skin. Jolting from his seat, Lance gasped for air, his now wet tendrils of hair covering his eyes. He tried to reach a hand to pull the hair out of his face only to be met with the steel resistance that pulled his arm back to the wall. Groaning, his back fell against the chair as he began to slowly flick the hair out of his eyes with the jerk of his head. 

“Stop. You’re not gonna get anywhere doing that.” Lance froze, his eyes trailing downwards to meet the familiar dark blue eyes and gorgeous specimen that was once in the shadows. Lance smirk was flirty as he let his eyes unabashedly trail along his figure, pleasingly taking in the slight bulge in his arms that were displayed from his black t-shirt. However, he noticed with disdain the bucket that trailed from his fingers, connecting the dots of his sudden dampness to the menace that had thrown it towards him. Lance’s eyes narrowed. 

Keith scoffed in disgust. “I’m not a meal for you to eat zombie.” Lance couldn’t resist the cackle of laughter that erupted from his lips. The noise seemed to bounce of the walls, loud and unfamiliar. When he managed to calm himself, he peered back at an incredulous looking Keith.

“That’s the first time I’ve been called a zombie by someone who looks like they’re undead.” Keith merely scowled. Surprisingly, Lance found himself displeased at the negative emotion that split across the stranger’s face, finding that he would prefer his skin to be unmarked by creases of annoyance. Silence stretched from seconds to minutes. Eventually, Lance grew tired of the incessant scowling directed from Keith and the uncomfortable silence.

“Why are you here, mullet man?” He broke the silence, his tone filled with befuddling annoyance, “It’s obvious that you’re not a fan of my flooding charm.” Keith’s eyebrow twitched at that last comment, his hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he exhaled heavily. Lance could barely hear the grumbles that were huffed under his breath, only catching the occasional ‘blue-eyed’ and ‘idiot’. It was only when the clang of the door interrupted their ‘conversation’ and the light that flooded in that Lance finally looked away from Keith. At the door stood the familiar figure of Shiro, his clothing the same however now the dark shadows seemed to hang more prominently from his eyes. 

Lance smiled brightly up at Shiro, completely the opposite to his current emotions. Shiro’s tired face seemed to brighten slightly at the amusing sight of the tied-up boy. Unbeknownst to the two, Keith had examined the exchange, his eyes now fixed to Lance’s tired yet beaming face. A surge of gratefulness seemed to sweep through him as he realised what the zombie had done for his brother.

“So,” Lance said, his voice adopting a comedic tone, “what’s the sitch, doc?” Shiro smiled lightly as he entered the room, approaching the table, flatly ignoring Keith’s warning gaze. He plopped down onto the seat, groaning lightly in appreciation. 

“I’d feel the same way if I was on my feet all day. Unfortunately, that’s not my case.” Shiro simply laughed lightly in appreciation, his prosthetic coming to rub behind his neck. Lance’s gaze shot up to Keith, only to notice him inspecting Shiro’s body worryingly. Concern, Lance mused, how sweet from the emotionless cowboy before him. 

Lance continued in his jesting, leaning forward towards him. “If I was let out of these chains I could help you with that.” Shiro tilted his head confusedly towards Lance who merely smirked and winked, “I give a mean neck massage.”

In less than an instant, Keith had slammed his hand onto the table and was baring his teeth at Lance who merely let his body fall gently back onto the chair, a cocky smile stretching across his face. Shiro’s arm shot to Keith’s, holding him back from grabbing the dagger that Lance notices was strapped tightly on the back of his black jeans. He watched in amusement as the two before him shared a secret conversation of glares and whispered grunts. 

“Calm down that sexual tension. I could choke here.” Lance defended himself mockingly. The reaction was instantaneous. Both men began choking on air, jumping away from one another. Keith continued to struggle in disbelief while Shiro was struggling with coughing and choking out laughter. 

Both men began coughing out excuses and angered disbelief of being “brothers” and it being “basically incest”. Lance stifled his laughter as the men tried to gather themselves from the shock they had just received. Their treatment of one another was that of a family. It reminded Lance of his sisters, the teasing and laughter. His smile faded as melancholy washed over him. The room seemed to reflect his shift in mood, becoming solemn and quiet. Without noticing, Keith and Shiro watched Lance as he deflated, all mocking and teasing gone. The two brothers couldn’t help the surge of curiosity. 

Trying to regain control of the situation, Shiro decided to break the silence. Lance’s head jolted upwards at what escaped his lips. His thoughts of family dissipating as he watched the complete seriousness that accompanied their faces. He felt his heart speed up in excitement as his mind raced with images of sunlight and his unleased hands.

“You’re free to go.”  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Lance Alejandro Teaghue McClain! Muévete el culo, buró arrogante!” [translation: Move your butt you arrogant donkey]
> 
> “Te dije de cuidar a tus hermanas. Porque Chloe me está diciendo que no le dejaste jugar contigo?!"  
> [translation: 'I ask you to look after your sisters. So why do I find Chloe coming up to me telling me that you wouldn't let her play with you?!']
> 
> “Pero mama-” [translation: But mom-]
> 
> “No, mijo” “Eres el hermano. Tendrías que ser justo. Pensaba que fueras más responsable!”  
> [Translation: “No my son” "You’re their brother. You are supposed to be equal and fair. I thought you were more responsible than that!”]
> 
> “Listen Leoncita. Tienes que siempre cuidar a tu familia. Siempre vamos a ser presente para ti entonces tenemos que ser presente para cada uno. Me entiendes ?” [translation: "You must always take care of your family. We’re always going to be there for you so we must be there for one another. Do you understand?”]
> 
> “Si, entiendo mama.” [translation: yes, I understand mom.]
> 
> “Mi precioso cachorro.”[translation: my precious cub]
> 
> If you want to send me anything check out my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idekanymore-m8


	4. Developing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... sorry......
> 
> I know it's been a couple months and I think I promised another chapter a couple months ago but.....
> 
> Been just rough with life but here is the 4th chapter (it's pretty crap cause a majority was written months ago and then a couple days ago so apologies but the 5th chapter will be better I promise)

****

**Chapter 4**

****

"Still want that massage, big boy?"

Shiro laughed heartily, his head snapping back to the sky. Lance watched in satisfaction at the bright sparkle and laughter lines that appeared on his older victim. The two - three men - walked down the corridors of the abandoned building that ten minutes ago had kept Lance captured. The walls were bared only with the base coat of moulding cream paint. Small dimmed lights hung from the corridor, speckled uncoordinatedly along the wall. Lance and Shiro walked alongside one another while a brooding Keith walked silently a couple meters behind them, his eyes glued to Lance as he inspected his every move. Lance shook off the irritation of his stalker and continued to listen to Shiro.

"Luckily for you, Ms Altea looked into your case and was able to pull some strings," Shiro smiled to himself at the reference to the woman, something both Lance and Keith noticed. "You've got thirty minutes until we need to meet up at her office. Would you like to go anywhere?".

Lance considered his options, comically raising his hand to stroke an invisible beard, "Can I see the layout you've got here? Maybe visit my saviours?" Lance's hopeful voice was badly disguised with the yearning interest in his eyes. Shiro's smiled widely, revealing his pearly whites, and nodded. Shiro reminded Lance heavily of a mature older brother, taking care of his little siblings. A pang of sorrow resounded through his body at the thought, however he steeled his face with 'joy'. 

Eventually, the trio reached a solid metal door. Above the door was an unlit green sign that was recognised in any escape scenario. Lance's couldn't contain the thrashing of his heart at what was to come. Would it be day? How would the sun feel again? Would he be tossed out by this 'Ms Altea'? Thoughts raced as fast as his heart, settling only when a fingerless gloved hand reached past him and pushed open the door.

Children's laughter. The first sound that greeted Lance. 

His eyes adjusted quickly to the blinding light of the sun that looked down upon them from the centre of the effortlessly blue sky. He saw short apartment buildings littering the area around him, old red brick with glazed windows along its height. In the distance, he could just make out the small details of the outer wall. Lance watched with awe as a small clan of children ran past them, ages different yet all squealing with easy joy. Thin streams of people walked down the pavements, some in groups while others alone. The only characteristic that connected them all is the look of distrust and horror as they looked at Lance. 

Their threatened gazes shook Lance's bones, causing him to step backwards into the shadows of his prison right into the shorter body of Keith. To Lance's surprise, his body was a comforting wall of toned muscles and warmth. A hand was placed on his back, pushing him into the light of outside. Lance stumbled clumsily down the steps of the building, turning his head briefly to glare back at the smug Keith. In retaliation, Lance merely poked his tongue out at him childishly. Lance only barely managed to catch Shiro's grumbling of "And you say there was sexual tension between us." Surprisingly to Lance, he felt heat stream to his cheeks, confusing Keith and causing Shiro to smirk. He gestured a hand towards the direction they'd be moving before speeding up, leaving the two alone. 

Lance couldn't help but curse at the older man under his breath before realising that Keith had merely strolled after his brother. Jogging lightly to catch up, Lance accidentally brushed his hand against Keith's causing both to jerk their hands back as fast as if they'd touched mouldy bread. Unbeknownst to one another, both boy's cheeks flushed lightly at the moment before steeling themselves, thinking similar thoughts of "Why am I blushing?" 

It was in the bright light of day that Lance finally managed to inspect the black-haired boy better. He was only slightly shorter than himself. His skin was pale, making the black clothes and hair stand out even more. His colourless lips were gnawed and cracked, a sign of anxiety? Lance filed that piece on information away for later as he continued to assess the beauty. Despite the littering of scars, acne and battle, Lance couldn't deny the attractiveness of the emo mullet man. 

Trying to regain control of the awkward moment, Lance released a small cough, the hand he jerked away coming to scratch the back of his neck, "Damn, Mullet, considering that you look like you crawled out of a goth club, I never expected you to be so warm. Hot for me, are we?" Lance smirked and wiggled his eyebrows towards an annoyed looking Keith. 

Quick as a viper, "Well I was right in assuming your skin would be cold for someone almost undead. Does it match the death of your wit?" Lance's mouth dropped open in shock, his right hand coming to cover his heart in mock heartbreak. 

"Well I never!" he began dramatically, his eyes lit with amusement, "I am a guest in your presence and I should be treated as such! You heathen!" 

Keith merely huffed, unamused by the sudden topic before growling out, "You are not a guest. You're a prisoner. Not even that. Calling you that would make you human when you're only a thing for our disposal." Keith's voice was void of emotion, a perfect robot soldier. Lance's smile dropped from his face, his whole being deflating. Shrugging his shoulders as he stuffed his numbing fingers into his pockets, he looked ahead, his gaze no longer amused but dulled. 

"I know." His voice was barely a whisper, unbeknownst to him though, Keith still managed to hear it. Keith's curiosity merely swelled despite how he tried to clamp down his emotions. As he took in the dejected boy from the corner of his eyes, he couldn't help but ask himself about the undead boy before him. 

"Who is he?" 

…

After a few minutes of walking in silence, the two re-joined Shiro outside a small tented area. The tent looked surprisingly stable to Lance, with the tarp being held up by metal beams and the fabric made from proper military grade stuff. The tent's fabric was currently rolled up halfway, allowing outsiders to just see tables and the occasional scampering legs. It spanned to about the size of a regular sized hall, reminding Lance of his old elementary school assemblies. Shivering at the thought, he could just make out the rowdy chatter of two familiar saviours. Lance looked upwards at Shiro with his best puppy dog eyes. Scarily similar to an exasperated parent, Shiro gestured dryly towards the opening flap of the tent, watching as Lance scampered happily into the tent. While Lance was busy, he managed to just miss the way Keith was about to follow him until Shiro's prosthetic clamped around his arm as he whispered, "We need to talk."

The inside of the tent was better lit than Lance expected, however it appeared to be a cluttered warzone of items. Metal tables were strewn randomly around the tent, each cluster of tables holding a different subject. Lance's eyes scanned over the weapons, broken tech, medical supplies and other raided items. In the centre of the clutter where two familiar figures that brought an instant smile to Lance's face.

"You cannot be serious, Katie! I specifically told you it's not allowed inside the colony!" Hunk yelled in exasperation, his hands clawed down his face. Pidge merely scoffed and continued to flitter between tables, grease staining her hands and a pair of goggles hanging loosely from her neck. 

"Don't be a wimp, Hunk. It's totally safe and I've got it all under control," she replied, however Lance could see exactly why Hunk didn't trust the gremlin. She had a god damn malicious grin that stretched across her face. 

Lance coughed awkwardly, watching in amusement as his two squabbling saviours turned to him with wide eyes. "What is the gremlin up to now?" his voice was playful yet his stance was tense, cautious about how the two would react. Suddenly, he was engulfed by two large cages, squeezing him tightly towards his captor. After Lance began flailing due to a sudden disappearance of air, Hunk finally put him back down. Lance wobbled unsteadily for a moment, placing his hands on his knees as he took gulps of air. 

"Damn," Lance puffed, "were you a sumo wrestler in another life or something?" Hunk smiled brightly as a light blush dusted his cheeks. Pidge nudged his side as she came to stand next to Hunk. Tension rolled out of Lance's shoulders as he recognised the smiles that greeted him. 

"So… you're a zombie?" Pidge questioned, getting harshly glared at by Hunk for her forwardness. Lance simply laughed uncomfortably, about to reply when he was interrupted once again by the gremlin. 

"Look," she began, "it's no big deal. Like I said when we first met; we've all got shit. If Shiro and Keith let you out then we can all trust you." She seemed completely sincere, her smile no longer mischievous but outwardly truthful. A young girl with wisdom of an elder. Lance beamed brightly at her, receiving ghostly memories of his little sisters. 

Lance walked over to the closest table, his fingers brushing lightly over what looked like a deconstructed mobile phone that was attached to a toaster. "So," he started, "what do we have here anyway? A new bomb to injure your latest victim?" He smirked while looking up at Pidge. Hunk's shoulders shook while he contained his laughter, eyeing a flustered pidge from the corner of her eyes. 

Her cheeks were puffed up in stubbornness, "Oh har har har. Very funny coming from the person whose back is still bandaged." Lance's chuckled, his hand rubbing over the tops of his bandages, enjoying the dull sting. 

"We were making a radio transmissions device." Hunk interceded, "If we're able to figure this out, it'll make raids easier if we're able to use these homemade walkie talkies. It's actually really cool." His eyes lit up as he continued to talk, his hands waving in gestures of excitement. 

Lance perked up, "That actually sounds really awesome. And you guys know how to do all this?" Hunk blushed at the compliment while Pidge merely leaned charismatically against his hulking body with a cocky glint in her eye. 

Her mouth opened as she was about to respond when the tent opening flapped open, revealing Shiro and Keith. Lance couldn't help the fluttering feeling that erupted in his stomach at Keith's familiar stare that met him. He twitched slightly as he stood, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by Hunk or Pidge who smirked at his behaviour, instantly catching on. 

"Afternoon ladies," Pidge started, making a 'tipping of a hat' gesture, "What brings you to our fine establishment of destruction?" 

Shiro chuckled warmly as he approached her, ruffling her short hair under his large palm. Keith silently moved to stand behind him, his sharp eyes on Lance, seeming to notice every aspect of possible danger in the room. 

"We're doing fine now, Katie. We're here just to do some last-minute supply checks before we finalise the list for the next raid in a couple days. Can you help me out?" Shiro smiled and handed over a small piece of folded paper and explaining briefly that it had the latest stock counts. 

As the two conversed, Lance leaned over towards Hunk, "Who the frickety-frack is this Katie? Is she a babe?" His reaction was instantaneous; spluttering and coughing loudly as he doubled over. Lance blushed as he straightened, realising Hunk's response had triggered all eyes to snap onto them and silence to flood the room. Lance muttered dismissively as he looked away from peering eyes, listening intently as Hunk explained some saliva had gone down the wrong pipe. Shiro and Pidge mumbled about it being 'classic Hunk' before returning to their previous conversation, however the pair couldn't escape the narrowed eyes of Keith as he clearly saw through their white lie.

After a moment, Hunk leaned over to Lance and whispered, "Pidge is Katie. Pidge is a nickname because it was apparently something her brother, Matt, called her." Lance's mouth opened as he began to ask a question about her brother but Hunk continued, "Don't ask her about him though. It's a part of her past and she really doesn't like to talk about it. Something happened with him and her dad and it's just… not pretty." Lance nodded, his face solemn and serious as he peered at the young girl who snorted at a joke told by the smiling Shiro. Lance could hardly imagine the baggage that she seemed to bear alone. Subconsciously, Lance had accepted the task of making her life easier and happier than the glazed look of melancholy that appeared when they first met. 

Lance's eyes drifted towards Keith, watching him fiddle with his dagger. His eyes were distant unknowingly twirling the weapon in his hands. Without taking his eyes of his figure, Lance asked Hunk about who Keith was. 

Hunk shrugged, "No one except Shiro is really sure. He just…showed up one day and Allura and Shiro knew him. But man, you should've seen the state he was in." Lance finally ripped his gaze away, surprised to see the sudden paled skin of his companion as he recounted the day. 

"I've never seen someone in so much pain. You were the closest contender but Keith still managed to overtake you." Lance felt an unnecessary competitive stubbornness settle on his chest as he puffed his chest up. 

"There was so much blood, Lance," Lance head snapped towards the tank at the waver in his voice, shocked to see his eyes glistening slightly at the memory, "So much noise and blood and…" Lance was gobsmacked at how loving and caring this massive teddy bear really was. He simply placed his hand on Hunk's shoulder, patting it lightly. Hunk sniffled lightly and rubbed his reddening eyes. Lance whispered comforting coos as Hunk centred himself. 

"Shirrooooooo! Lance made Hunk cry!" The two boys' heads snapped towards Pidge and Shiro who had an expression of confusion and concern on their faces as they noticed the state of Hunk. Lance awkwardly laughed, raising his hands defensively as stepped closer to Hunk as he recognised the murderous expression of Keith whose dagger was suddenly a lot closer than it was before. 

Hunk laughed warmly as Lance scrambled behind his body to avoid Keith's piercing gaze and metal appendage. Lance whimpered out some excuse before Keith pounced, dagger in hand with a murderous glint in his eye. Pidge cackled as the two began 'cat and mouse' between the tables, Lance shouting profanities and Spanish while Keith tried to conceal a smirk. As Hunk and Pidge began to make bets, Shiro leaned against the table, observing his happy family and feeling content.

 

It was only when a small ping began to echo in the room did everyone freeze. Keith had Lance's head in a chokehold when Shiro's hands pulled them apart. Both boys gazed up towards their towering captor, his face tired and solemn suddenly. "It's time to see Ms Altea", his voice strict, no longer amused at his family but aware of the tension that slid into the room at his words. Lance stiffened before nodding in confirmation, straightening up and began to follow Shiro out of the tent, not a word of farewell to his worried saviours. Keith was about to follow when a small hand clasped his forearm. Pidge shook her head silently at his confused gaze leaving him to watch after a paled Lance, a million questions racing through his mind.

…

The sun baked their skin with an almost uncomfortable warmth. The two were silent, one calm while the other quivered with fear. Lance wasn't sure who this 'Ms. Altea' was, but from the sounds of it, she was top dog. He could already imagine a woman with massive arms and sailor tattoos with grimy teeth. He could see a woman standing in a torture room of unfamiliar objects that would instantly make you curious and cower at the malicious ideas that were planned. He imagined her laughing at his frail figure before picking him up by the neck and throwing him directly out the window. Lance shivered at the thought, suddenly walking a little bit faster to keep up with Shiro's fast pace. 

Though, Lance soon got bored with the silence but from the look on Shiro's face he was in a world that shouldn't be disturbed. Lance began to inspect the people around him like a shy child watching unfamiliar family members at a party, curious but frightened. He ignored the confused and horror filled stares as he swaggered next to the military Shiro, choosing to look at the rusted buildings instead of their disgusted sneers. The sharp, familiar laughter of children caused Lance's head to snap towards the sound, amused by the appearance of the children running down the street. They seemed to be chasing one another, sticks in their hands as they screeched wildly to one another. 

…

_The salty taste of chips and sea water stained his tongue as Lance emerged from the water. The water drops glistened in the warmth of the sun, seeping into his browned skin. Lance stumbled awkwardly through the water towards the shore where Chloe and Matilda were constructing a sand castle while his mother sat under the shade feeding his new baby sister Anita. A five year old Benji giggled with his playdate, splashing each other in the shallower waters of the ocean._

_The familiar burn of the sand on his feet as he dashed over to his mother, intentionally making faces at his sisters as he passed, pleased at their giggles._

_"Mamá! I touched the bottom of the ocean! I'm like a shark now!" Lance squealed in delight, beginning to make chomping faces earning a light coo from Anita. His mother smiled warmly up at him, a free hand reaching upwards to caress his sun-soaked skin._

_"BENJI!" the terrified screaming of Lance's two sisters interrupted his mother's compassionate hand, causing Lance to swiftly turn around towards the distress._

_His mother's voice was muted in his ears, but her horror stricken face was etched into his memory. A young Lance simply watched as she raced forward, Anita hitting her tiny fists against her mother while her toothless mouth cried out in frustration. His sisters running towards their mother, desperation on their pale faces. Lance could only watch as his little brother went under the wave, his chubby hand disappearing into the darkness of the ocean._

…

"We're here," Shiro's stern voice brought him from his memories. Lance blinked uncoordinatedly, surprised at the feeling of salty tears dripping off his chin. With a shaking hand and dulled eyes, Lance wiped the tears off his reddening face unbeknownst of the worried gaze of Shiro. The concerned man opened his mouth, thoughts of saying reassuring things to comfort the lost soul in front of him died on his tongue as Lance swept past him and entered the office where his fate would be decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and everything!!
> 
> Kudos, bookmark, comment and everything and if you want to send me suggestions or fanart (which I'm still hoping for) then you can check out my tumblr (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idekanymore-m8)
> 
> LOVE YOU ALL


	5. Ms Altea and Voltron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry!!
> 
> I just had exams and then my editor *cough cough* kate *cough cough* couldn't edit my work and just a flurry of stuff just went down even when the chapter was done.
> 
> I will get the next chapter out asap but until then, enjoy this unhelpful and hopefully lil fluffy filler

****

**Chapter 5**

At first glance of the infamous Ms. Altea, Lance was definitely surprised to meet a beautiful woman sitting elegantly at her desk. A flawlessly browned woman sat with her arms crossed over her chest, a neat pile of silver hair atop her head in a bun with slight strands escaping it. However, behind her beauty, Lance couldn't help but notice the stains of tiredness that sat below her dulled blue eyes or the small, anxious chips on the tips of her nails. What was most curious to Lance was the small marks that seemed to be tattooed beneath her eyes, almost reminding him of the 'Nike' logo.

"Lance," Shiro began, stepping forward and presenting her next victim, "meet Ms Allura Altea, leader of the colony." Allura simply blushed gently before smiling and insisting that he call her Allura. Lance eyes sparkled mischievously at the responding redness flooding Shiro's pale cheeks as he nodded shyly. When Lance's gaze shifted back to meet Allura's, all evidence of the glimmer of kindness was gone, instead replaced with a seriousness that reminded him of a mother's oncoming scolding. 

Lance smirked devilishly, rubbing his sweated hand across his jeans before extending it towards her, all thoughts before entering the office instantly forgotten. "The name's Lance and may I just say that your eyes sparkle like the Caribbean Sea," his smile was filled with charm and cheekiness, only pleased with himself when he noticed the surprise in Allura's stoic façade. Out of the corner of his eye he missed Shiro frown at his behaviour, obviously concerned for the flip flop of his emotions. 

Allura's shock soon faded and instead replaced with a dryness that rivalled the desert. "I'm surprised a peasant like you could afford to see the Caribbean." Both Shiro's and Lance's eyes widened at her rebuttal, her face now mimicking the cat who got the cream. After a moment, Lance mirrored her face, both pools of blue reflecting playfulness into one another, missing the whispered prayer made by a terrified Shiro. Allura gestured to a chair opposite her desk, watching as Lance sat down and sending Shiro away with the flick of her hand, her eyes never leaving his. 

At the click of the closed door, the moment of silence passed into seriousness at the future conversation. Allura uncrossed her arms before leaning back into her chair, "I would like to discuss with you the nature of your time in my colony and what is going to be expected of you." Lance's eyes drifted to the window behind her, watching the clouds move aimlessly across the sky, his focus interrupted by the click of her finger in his face. Her expression was impatient with his drifting attention as she waited for his response. Lance quickly started to spit out a polite reply before she continued. He watched as her dainty finger flipped open a file, her fingers dancing across the words.

"Lance McClain. Discovered after being caught in an explosion initiated by Katie Holt. Following some rehabilitation, both members of the expedition team, Katie and Hunk, brought you back into the colony through the central tunnel. Upon approach to the surface our medic, Coran, discovered your infected state before our very own Keith Kogane took you down. You were then locked up for observation and interrogation before being brought here," her voice monotone as she looked upwards from the paper, "is this correct?" Lance timidly nodded, surprised by the accuracy of the document after being in the colony for such a short time. 

Allura sighed shortly before flicking the document closed, her tired gaze raising to meet Lance's. "My father was aware of the outbreak before it occurred," Allura's guilty tone made Lance straighten in surprise, watching as she seemed to look past him with a misty. "He worked for a group of people that were researching into something far greater than humankind has been capable of. When he discovered the negative side-effects, he tried to warn people, but nobody listened, entranced with the promises of power and immortality. So instead, he created this place, gaining permission from the community due to his wealth and began to fortify what is now known as the Colony." Lance's heart panged at the sneaking tears that slipped from her eyes, staining (the file below. Allura took a moment before continuing, sniffing loudly and straightening, her now reddening eyes glaring into Lance's with a surprisingly level of malice. 

"This is all I have left of my father. So, forgive me if I am unable to open my arms to you… this monster that contributed to the destruction of everything that was beautiful." her voice was soft as her venom split down his spine and guilt welled in his heart. But Lance said nothing; everything she was saying he already considered truthful. "But, under pleas of you newfound friends, your sentence has been altered," her voice grew stronger and less venomous as she continued, "You will assist in the expeditionary team known as 'Voltron'. You will have the task of venturing beyond the colony to gather supplies and to defend these citizens. But if you even breathe in the wrong direction, or I see even a tiny indication of your slipping insanity…I'll end you myself." The threat chilled him to the bone, the truth in her words and eyes causing him to pale in worry. Allura straightened herself before flicking her wrist in a wordless send-off. On shaky legs, Lance stumbled quickly out of the room, terrified at the sharp gaze that burned into his back. 

 

"I can't believe you made it out of there without even a bruise!" Shiro's voice was laced with surprise, "You should've seen her with the last outsider. He didn't talk for a month after speaking with her!" Lance watched, unamused, at the lovesick pride that emitted from Shiro as he continued to gush about Allura's brilliance. After leaving the office, Lance had leaned against the wall just breathing to calm himself down before Shiro's hulking figure walked up the stairs to pull him back down to street-level. From there, Lance had explained lightly what they had talked about, avoiding mentioning the threats from Allura, inisiallising Shiro's social mechanism on fantastic Allura was as a leader and a friend. By the time they had reached the weapons tent, Lance was truly done. 

Whipping around to stand in front of Shiro, Lance crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the befuddled expression on the other man's face. "Alright. I get it. You want to bang Allura. I'm sure everyone else gets that too. But can you please, for the love of everything that's left in this world. Shut. Up." Lance's voice was sharp and curt, his hands flying around in exasperation. With one final glance at Shiro's pale and surprised face , Lance twirled on his heel to enter the tent of destruction. 

The tent's, somewhat chaotic, familiarity washes over Lance as he stepped inside, tempting his lips into a quirk of a smile. Hunk's head jolted upwards at the sound of the tent flaps, a grin splattering onto his face at the sight of an in-tact Lance.  
"Lance!" he shouted, his back straightening to face the approaching boy, "You're alive?!"  
Lance's head tilted back to laugh at the incredulity of his tone before he began to account the terrifying encounter with the 'army princess'. 

"Lance. Hunk. Keith. Pay attention,", Pidge's annoyed tone interrupted his tale, both heads turning towards her hunched form. It was only then that Lance noticed Keith leaning against the table, his attention now diverted towards Pidge's work, but the light flush that scattered over his cheeks gave him away. Lance grinned cheekily in his direction before rounding the table to place himself just opposite the focused midget. 

His eyes followed along with the swift movements of her fingers as they danced across what appeared to be a merge between a pistol and a stuffed teddy bear. The tip of the gun replaced a missing black button eye while the rest of the gun protruded uncomfortably out the other end of the bear's dirtied head. Lance blinked.

"Not trying to confuse you or anything," Lance began, "but, you are aware that you're shoving a weapon through a children's toy?" Pidge's head raised, her eyes glinting with boredom. He only continued, "Did you have a rough childhood or is this just a sadistic thing you've got going on?" Pidge sighed, her dirtied fingers budging her glasses out of the way to rub the bridge of her nose. Hunk and Keith simply watched the 'conversation', one pair of eyes filling with mirth while the other seemingly blank. 

"I do not understand." Keith's confusion at the situation only fuelled the cheeky smile that split over Lance's face. Before he could respond, a sudden thrum of pain attacked his forehead, causing Lance to fall against the table.

Pidge placed the offending wrench carefully back in its spot, rubbing the bridge of her nose before she started. "If you're done with the teasing, I can explain to you what is going on." At the appearance of Lance's pouting face and hunched form, she deemed it appropriate to continue without interruptions. "The idea of the 'teddy bear roar', as I have appropriately deemed it, is to add to our collection of hidden weapons in case of an invasion of dangerous figures in the colony."

"It's essentially one of the main projects Pidge and I work on when we don't have anything else to do." Hunk added, leaning in closer to the two, "It's entertaining to change what used to be our favourite toys into weapons of destruction!"

"I got to turn a furby into a grenade!" Pidge's tone was dark and her eyes glinted maliciously, a shiver of fear making its way down her male companions who discretely took a small step away from the table. 

As Hunk and Pidge continued to brag about which toy made the best explosive, Lance glanced upwards to see the surprisingly soft features of the stoic mullet. Straightening up, Lance's gaze captured the dark imprisoning eyes of Keith; a calm sea facing a raging storm. Putting on his classic, playful smirk, he used Pidge's hunched over back as an arm rest on which he leaned his head against his palms. "So, pretty boy," he purred, taking pleasure in the suddenly red tips of Keith's ears, "what childhood toy do you hide your… dagger in?" To top it off, Lance winked seductively while waggling his eyebrows. However, he didn't expect Keith's blushing features to shift to flirtatious confidence, causing Lance's slow beating heart to stutter dramatically. Suddenly, Keith was right in his face making Lance lean back at the intrusiveness of his dark beauty. At such a close distance, Lance's eyes couldn't help but drift over each little feature of his face. From the splattering of light freckles and faded acne scars, his pale cracked lips whose edges tugged into a smirk to a small scar that curled on the bottom of his chin. Lance only watched in fascination as his pale tongue darted out to soothe his lips, suddenly imagining that tongue doing…not so PG 13 things.

"Wanna find out?"

A beat of silence.

The room was frozen. Hunk and Pidge held their breath, awaiting the next move. Lance stared in blank shock as Keith continued to watch. 

Another beat of silence.

Hunk watched as red hot bashfulness invaded the flirting boys faces. Within an instant, the confidence that Keith once held was replaced with shy stuttering as the two backed away from one another.

Keith's hands waved quickly in front of him, "I- I didn't mean- I just- cause…"

Lance shook his head, "No its - me and - just you're- I'm- just- "

"If you two can stop fooling around, I need to talk to Keith about the next mission." The two boys jolted at the sudden intrusion of an amused Shiro, whose gaze had witnessed the entire conversation. Lance and Keith stuttered out excuses and agreements as Shiro merely began to push a discombobulated Keith out of the tent. Before he left, Shiro turned his head over his shoulder towards Lance, "Looks like I'm not the only one who wants to bang someone." before smirking and escaping from the shocked silence of the tent. 

When the tent flaps finally settled, Lance's gaze slowly turned towards the those of his amused friends. Both Hunk and Pidge stared knowingly at Lance, their eyebrows raised in amusement. Lance looked towards his feet mumbling a bashful'shut up' under his breath.

 

After an afternoon of teasing, mocking and amusement, Lance found himself splayed over an old couch, looking towards the tents roof, while Hunk and Pidge whispered about route plans for the next mission. 

Lance wasn't that confident with himself about the next mission. He would never admit it, but Allura had been much scarier than he had expected. Everyone was a lot scarier than he imagined to be completely honest with himself. But then again, an apocalypse might do that to you. He had been so surprised when he saw the smiling faces of children; it was rare to hear such a joyous sound anymore. He internally chastised himself for his ridiculous conceptions of the colony. Of people smiling and being relaxed about missions and always friendly. It was a world of distrust and fear, even before the apocalypse. Lance had come to the realisation that it was easier to accept the world as negative than constantly search for something good. 

He learned that from his dad. 

"Are you okay, Lance?" Hunk's voice interrupted his depressed internal monologue. Lance unconsciously began to nod, unaware of the concerned gazes of Hunk and Pidge. The sudden small hand that rested on his shoulder making Lance jump from the couch, his eyes wide and fearful. Pidge smiled comfortingly, her gaze almost understanding as she seemed to recognise Lance's reaction. But this merely caused a more insistent fear at the bottom of his stomach at the thought that she might know. 

"We need to brief you on your role for the mission tomorrow." Pidge began, watching as Lance pushed himself into a seated position. At his nod, Pidge continued, "Tomorrow, we're going to split into two teams. The Primary team will include Hunk, Shiro and Keith while the Secondary team will consist of Allura, me and you." Lance shivered at the mere thought of facing Allura's terrifying gaze again. "Our main objective tomorrow is to gather supplies for the colony, specifically focusing on medicine and warmer clothing for the coming winter." Pidge paused for a second, her voice lowering, "But, the second objective is to test your abilities and reaction to the hoards". 

He felt everything go cold at the suggestion of facing the blue eyes again. The vision of gnashing teeth and hungry eyes. He couldn't help but remember that it was the same image that people saw whenever they looked at him. It was the same image he saw whenever he glanced at his own reflection in the mirror. 

At a sudden dip in the couch, Lance's head snapped towards the opposite side, his fearful gaze meeting the worried eyes of Hunk. His large hands landed on his bony knees, warmth spreading upwards through his body. "It's going to be okay, Lance. Pidge will keep you safe and Allura isn't half as bad as you think. She's just…," Hunk paused, "worried." Lance couldn't help but flinch at the implied, 'can you blame her' that failed to fall from Hunk's mouth. 

"You'll be fine, zombie boy," Pidge teased, earning her a flick, "I solemnly promise not to blow you up… again." Lance's lips curled lightly in amusement as Hunk and Pidge once again began to bicker about the event that caused their meeting. 

While Lance had to admit he wasn't keen for the mission, he couldn't help but feel grateful that he could spend these little moments with his newfound friends. If he was going to die, he wanted to spend as many moments as he could with the people that reminded him of his sisters and brothers. They were all he lived for before, and now he only lives for the memories of them.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Lance flopped himself dramatically over Hunk's hulking body. 

"What a shitty day." he proclaimed, earning hums of agreement as the trio chattered in comfort, unaware of the shitstorm that was on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM!
> 
> So, stuff is about to go down and I'm excited and hopefully you're excited.
> 
> Pls Kudos or comment or whatever cause your support literally means the world to me and makes me super happy and motivated to keep writing.
> 
> LOVE YALL!!


	6. The shit has hit-eth the fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooooooooooo.....
> 
> i'm sorry?
> 
> as a gal in her final year of school I unfortunately had exams which held me back and then all of this shit collided with the fan (hence the chapter name) and here we are, months later and finally another chapter
> 
> I'll try to write as frequently as possible but until then, THANK YOU FOR BEARING WITH ME AND READING THIS STORY BECAUSE I LOVE YOU ALL AND xoxoxox

**Chapter 6**

If they had told Lance that in a mere 7 hours he would be curled up on the ground, mere meters away from undead creatures with most feeling in him arm currently gone, he probably would’ve changed his mind about the whole ‘Voltron’ expedition squad. 

But here he was, lying on the ground of some random school feeling like another useless damsel and consciously awaiting the urge for human flesh to finally lapse into his mind. Funnily enough, he couldn’t help but feel the irony that he was literally about to die in the place that had made him feel the least alive. Instead, as he felt his living arm being tugged by his frantic teammates, he allowed himself to envision the past 7 hours before the shitstorm.

 

7 Hours Before

“When I say ‘Vol’ you say ‘Tron’!”

“Vol!”

“…”

“Seriously?!”, Lance cried, his arms waving in exasperation, “We’ve been working on this for about two hours now and you still can’t seem to get it through that stupid mullet of yours!”

Keith’s eye twitched in frustration, his cheeks flushing as he opened his mouth to retort Lance’s insult. It had been a few hours after the events of Allura’s office and the meetings for tomorrow’s expedition had come in full swing. But with Lance’s continuous flirtatious remarks and his pestering of Keith, the two were quickly removed from the meetings and told by Shiro to, “go play while the adults have a discussion”. 

So here they were, back in the weapons tent, Lance lying upside down on a tattered couch while Keith leaned against a pole, his arms crossed and eyes closed, emitting a classic emo angst vibe. 

“At least I manage to control myself!” Keith retorted, “You couldn’t even stay silent for two minutes before you had to go fuck things up!”

Lance sat up stiffly, the atmosphere of the tent suddenly stifling with the oncoming storm of the conversation, “You’re out here too if you hadn’t noticed!” 

Keith only scoffed, “Yeah, as your protection. They all know if they left you alone you’d fuck up something else like normal,” his eyes opened as he met Lance’s glare, “or maybe someone else.”

Snap.

Keith’s head slammed against the metal pole, the sound echoing throughout the tent. He was surprised at the animosity before him; Lance’s lips pulled back in a snarl as his ocean blue eyes seemed to sharpen into blades of ice, their glow initiating a flicker of familiarity and horror to Keith. They mirrored the eyes that he saw each time he left the walls, a hunger mixed delightfully with anger. A clawed hand pushed Keith’s neck against the pole, but he was too shocked to even recognise the familiar stings of pain, instead entranced by the sudden creature before him. 

“How dare you,” Lance whispered, his tone lowered to an almost growl, “You have not the slightest fucking clue of who I am.” 

Keith couldn’t even focus on the malice in his voice, instead his hands came to claw at the iron clad grip across his neck. Lance’s teeth seemed to gnash together as their faces grew closer, and if it weren’t for the lack of humanity that Lance portrayed, Keith might have even blushed at the proximity.

“Lance! Enough!”

Within an instant of hearing Shiro’s commanding tone, Lance’s eyes seemed to dull back into their melancholic blue and the grip of his hands loosened. Blinking away a cloud, Lance stepped back, his hand still curled in its chokehold. As he backed away, Shiro took his place between the two, inspecting Keith for injuries and prodding him with gentle reassurances, but the boy failed to notice. Keith’s eyes were instead trained on the blue-eyed boy past the hulking frame of Shiro. Lance, in that moment, appeared…lost. Keith only watched as realisation dawned on Lance’s face, his hand coming to rest at his side in an attempt to hide the barely noticeable quiver of his limbs. 

In that moment, as Keith rubbed his raw throat, he could barely fight off the urge to cocoon the lost boy in his arms. 

After being satisfied with his inspection of his friend, Shiro’s gaze turned to Lance, freezing the shaken boy in his place with his gut-curdling stare. “What,” he began, his tone venomously cold, “do you think you were doing?”

Lance’s face began to turn red from the fear and shock of what had happened His previous anger and outrage had washed away as quickly as a heartbeat, replaced only by a familiar feeling of guilt. He was barely able to stutter out a coherent explanation before Keith saved him. 

“It was my fault!” Keith blurted out, causing both eyes to turn towards him, “I went too far.” 

Lance’s eyes widened at the apology evident in Keith’s eyes. Shiro, however, seemed disappointed by the answer, as if he was pleased he was finally able to scold someone. 

As Shiro began to recite from what must have been the manual of ‘How to reprimand your rebellious child’, Lance looked upon the embarrassed Keith, who refused to meet his eyes, with a fresh perspective. His heart began to beat that little bit faster.

The forceful flap of the tents caused all three pairs of eyes to snap towards the opening as a smiling Coran peered inside, declaring “The mission is beginning. It is time to go young paladins!” As Shiro and Keith began to walk determinedly towards the exit, Lance couldn’t help but hesitate, confused with the term ‘paladin’ and fearful of the promise of the mission before him. 

He looked down at his feet as he shuffled slowly towards the exit, pondering what was to come, when a half-gloved hand interrupted his gaze. Upon looking up, he was met with the brightly blushing ‘red paladin’, who refused to meet his gaze, his hand outstretched. Noticing the awestruck face of the Cuban, Keith’s blush deepened before he grunted, shoving his hand in his pocket as he moved beyond the tent flaps. 

Lance took one more moment to enjoy the heat that flushed in his cheeks upon the lingering thoughts of finger-less gloves and the slight quirk of pale chapped lips before following behind the cause of his flustered heart.

 

6 Hours Before

Lance shielded his eyes against the blinding appearance of the sun upon exiting the tent. 

As his eyes adjusted, he took brief notice of the darkening tornado of hues that stained the sky. His gaze caressed the buildings around them, filled with families and children, preparing for the cocoon of sleep while they ventured beyond the safety of the walls. 

Lance, shoving down sparks of panic and longing, stepped towards the clustered group circled just outside the tent. Around the circle, Pidge cleaned her glasses while leaning on a yawning Hunk, instantly causing a gentle smile forming upon Lance’s face. Lance joined the duo, taking his place on the other side of Hunk, shooting them a smile before focusing his attention upon the conversation between the ‘serious’ people. 

His attention was drawn to Allura, not just because she was the only one speaking about a brief outline of a plan that he had no intention to listen too, but because of her change of appearance. She no longer appeared as tense but instead determined and almost… free, as if her emergence from her cell desk brought out a younger version of herself. He took note of the playful glimmer in her eye, the subtle blush of excitement making its appearance and the slight smile upon her lips, despite how serious a task she was describing. 

Lance’s smile dwindled as pangs of regret and melancholy clenched his heart. He felt his breathing speed up, his vision becoming hazy with the unshed tears that glistened across his eyes. In that moment, she reminded him of his sisters. 

_“Lance?” Chloe whimpered, outstretching a bloodied arm to him. But he could only watch as the fear in her ocean eyes died, replacing it with something inhuman._

He gasped sharply, his tears escaping their confinement, trailing down his cheeks. His ears rung; everything muffled by the incessant grief that clouded his judgements. It was only when the familiar hand of his big friend was placed upon his shoulders was Lance brought crashing down to earth. 

“Lance?!”

No longer was it his sister’s voice, but Allura, her voice panicked by the current state he appeared in. He took in the shock upon their faces and at first was confused as to why they could even care about someone as lowly as himself. 

A little voice spoke up, wiggling against his already diminished self-worth, ‘Because they need you to navigate through hordes, to assist them in their own gains.’

With that, Lance steeled himself, unaware of the worry that spread over their faces as he shrugged off Hunk’s hand and stepped away, rubbing furiously at his bloodshot eyes. He gave them the best smile he could muster. The group shared a knowing look before turning back to Allura’s briefing, all except for the watchful eyes of their samurai, carefully inspecting the façade upon the zombie-boy, trying to peer through that wall that had been so carefully crafted. 

As Lance cracked an awful pun, Keith couldn’t help but wonder what had caused him so much pain as to perfect an emotional confinement centre, closed off from the outside world. 

4 Hours Before

“…And my grandmother was slow. I thought you undead could move faster.” Allura scolded, her hands on her hips as she stood beside a snickering Pidge, taking in the puffed boy lying on the ground before them. 

Lance sent them a sharp glare, flicking a pebble at Pidge’s forehead to cease her laughter, “First off, not undead…yet. And secondly, I was never good at cardio and I’ve missed leg day for months now so forgive me if I can’t run up thirteen flights of stairs!” 

Pidge, intoxicated by mirth, continued to stifle giggles, whispering about how she wished she had a camera, while Allura continued to look unimpressed. After another moment of solemn staring, she huffed before turning around and continuing her walk up to the roof of the building. 

After the expedition team had collected equipment, including a torch, a backpack and a single pistol with 4 rounds, Lance managed to grasp some brief details as to what was about to go down. When they told Lance that he would be in a group with the girls, he had this image of gossiping and a growing bond between the three of them just as he had with all his female family members. They were the ‘supply run’, their only objective to run into whatever facilities they could find to collect goods, while the ‘tactical team’, made up of their three fighting tanks, searched the dangerous sides of town that were most infested with undead and ruthless survivors. 

“So, I’m the protector of my group?” Lance had exclaimed, kissing his biceps and making suggestive expressions at Allura who merely snarled in disgust.

“Actually,” Coran had interrupted, stroking that moustache of his, “that would be Allura.”

The laughter at his expense that had followed only ended once the team actually split up. 

Lance made grabby hands at Pidge from the ground, jutting out his lower lip to appear helpless. If he had expected her to assist him in his ground wallowing, he obviously did not know Pidge very well, as she simply snorted and followed swiftly after Allura. 

He groaned, letting his head fall limp to the concrete floor as he closed his eyes. 

“mátame ahora,” he whispered.

1 Hours Before

After the most boring three hours of Lance’s life, all they could claim was three batman Band-Aids, a plastic yellow kazoo, and an expired voucher for a smoothie joint of which Lance snarked, “There goes my free banana blitz.”

They had searched through a scattering of apartments that they had stumbled upon while travelling the rooftops of the town, finding little to nothing of value. Even at this point, Pidge had joined Lance in grouchiness, grumbling at the absurdity of the journey when they could have been back at the Hive sleeping. Allura was the only one who remained on task, her eyes set in determination as she carefully scourged every nook and cranny they came across. 

Her determination would have been inspiring… if it was in the company of anyone other than two thirds of the L-UN-GE trio (A/N: see what I did there). 

But it took only so long for the duo’s grouchiness to encase and demolish Allura’s optimism and soon, all three of them were bummed out.

Allura sighed, scrapping her hand through her loosened hair, “This is hopeless,” Lance and Pidge hummed in agreement, “We haven’t found anything that could be even remotely useful – and that includes that goddamn kazoo!” Lance lowered his hand that, of course, clutched the kazoo in question. 

She groaned once more, leaning against a wall as she smashed her hands to her face. Her voice was muffled as she continued to speak, “The only places we haven’t looked are far too dangerous or too far a distance,” she slid down the wall, her hands coming to rest against her curled-up knees, her voice lowered to a whisper, “I can’t go back empty handed, they need us to bring something back.” 

Lance watched as her fists tightened alongside the waver in her voice. The desolation of hope lay barren at the trio’s feet, weighing them down with the unquestionable truth of what was to come when they re-entered the Hive. Who would suffer from their lacking haul? Who would be left vulnerable without the necessary medicines they needed? Lance looked down at his own dirtied hands. 

Who else would die because of him?

Gritting his teeth, Lance began to pace between the two girls, barely noticing their curious glances as he focused all his brainpower on a solution. At each turn of his pace, his eyes focused on the buildings over the rooftop, seeking an answer to their dilemma, when it appeared like a predator at a waterhole.

“A school…” Lance muttered once before repeating it louder for his companions to hear. “There’s a school! Over there!” His finger shakily gestured towards the run down building just a few blocks away, barely visible if it weren’t for Lance catching the distinct outline of school notice board lying face down outside a set of double doors. 

Allura snapped to her feet, her eyes widening in recognition, “Grover High School. But, it’s usually packed to the brink with the undead, why does it look empty now?”

Her genuine curiosity and scepticism was ignored by Lance who seemed excited about school for the first time in forever, “Who cares? It looks dead empty now! And I bet they have a nurse’s office that has been locked up real tight!”

Without a second thought, Lance began dash across the rooftops, using planks of wood or simply leaping, towards the school, ignorant of the desperate calls of his companions. 

 

20 minutes before

As he entered the broken doors of the school, Lance couldn’t fight off the familiar shiver of unpleasantness. Having gotten their way before the others, he thought it would be plausible to snoop around for the nurse’s office to retrieve some items before they could arrive. 

The hallways of the school were pitch black, lit only by the sharp beam emitting from his torchlight. His gaze traced after the yellow light of his torch, scanning over the rusted lockers and broken classroom doors. His footsteps were silent except for the occasional crinkle from stray papers, flinching at the sound each time. 

With the familiar appearance before him, he couldn’t help but imagine a time where those corridors were bustling with life. Where friends would share secrets and memories as they joined the current of movement to travel towards their classes, or the occasional stragglers that either decided to play hooky or were so late to class that their shoes scuffed upon the ground as they sprinted down the hallway.

And now, the place was only filled with a deathly silence, settling an oppressive and ominous weight upon Lance’s shoulders as he navigated the labyrinth of familiar teenage horrors. 

After ten minutes of wandering about and occasional dead-ends, Lance finally managed to track down the nurse’s office. Slipping inside the broken door, he was overjoyed to discover that the office had remained almost untouched, with the secured cabinets still holding medicinal treasures behind their closed doors. He was so distracted by his joy, he failed to realise the other presence in the room.

Lance quickly fumbled with the cabinet, smashing the butt of his gun against it until the rusted lock broke away. Swinging his backpack to his front, he swiped everything off the shelves, filling the bag to the brink until he was shoving ibuprofen in its extra pockets. 

Zipping up his backpack, Lance turned around to meet a glowing pair of violet eyes. Quickly stifling his yelp with his hand, he snapped the flashlights gaze towards the figure. Fear spiked through him like a bullet as he took in the silent, unnerving purple eyed zombie that stood opposite to the door. 

It was unlike anything Lance had ever seen (then again, he was half zombie). It’s skin, retaining the usual paleness, seemed to have stronger hues of purple that matched its glowing eyes. But the scariest part, other than its ominous silence as it gazed at Lance’s now shivering frame, was it’s pristine clothes, as if someone had changed them. 

“What are you?” Lance whispered in horror, his blood rushing from his cheeks at the toothy smile that it replied with. 

A piercing scream echoed throughout the school, causing Lance’s head to snap away from the creature and towards the door. It was a distinctly feminine scream. Quickly turning his attention back towards the zombie, Lance was surprised to find it gone and a window on the other side of the room left open, letting the chilly night air caress his skin. 

A second scream erupted, snapping Lance back into action as he leapt out of the room, sprinting through the corridors in the direction of the noise. The previous fear from the sight not turned to adrenaline as, unbeknownst to Lance, his eyes began to take on a familiar electric blue that the living feared. 

When the third scream finally emerged, Lance was just turning the last corner to find a hoard of undead slamming against a classroom door, rattling it against its rusted hinges. For a moment, he was stunned at the sudden appearance of the zombies, quickly pondering why they had only just now appeared, before he heard the angered commands of Allura just coherent through the gnashing and growling.

Without another moment’s thought, Lance growled. 

“Oh for the-,” and with that, he removed his gun from his jeans, raised it and shot off a round to the ceiling, watching as the electric gaze of the hoards snapped away from breaking down the door, and fell to him.

“Mierda”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Mierda” [TRANSLATION: Shit] 
> 
> “Matame Ahora,” he whispered. [TRANSLATION: Kill me now]
> 
>  
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!! Leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed cause I love hearing from you all cause it truly makes my day!!
> 
> Check out le tumblr for more crap : idekanymore-m8
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL and THANKS!!
> 
> [also correct my spanish if you know spanish cause I don't actually trust google]

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this!!
> 
> leave a comment to give me some feedback if you think I should continue and leave a kudos if you enjoyed it.
> 
> Thanks!!
> 
> If you want to send me anything check out my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/idekanymore-m8


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